


cherry

by nani_punani



Series: violent delights [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Aunt!Loki, BAMF Loki (Marvel), F/M, Female Loki (Marvel), Jealous Thor (Marvel), Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Odin is a dick, Possessive Thor (Marvel), Protective Thor (Marvel), cheerleader!Loki, loki and thor raised together, loki is younger though, pov!fandral, pov!sigyn, pov!volstagg, quarterback!Thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nani_punani/pseuds/nani_punani
Summary: CULT/kəlt/nounexcessive admiration for a particular person or thing regarded by others as strange or sinister.
Relationships: Loki/Thor
Series: violent delights [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601317
Comments: 232
Kudos: 437





	1. genesis: beginning of all things

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Cherry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24923617) by [BellaAlabanccini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaAlabanccini/pseuds/BellaAlabanccini)



> oops i did it again  
> i started another wip :(

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is the drill sergeant cheerleader with a razor sharp smile. Thor is the nice guy everybody likes. Sigyn is the first lieutenant to Loki's Stalin-esque regime. She sees everything they can't.

There is a boy. And there is a girl.

_(of course there is. there always is.)_

But that’s not how it is at first.

At first it’s just the girl.

_(at first it’s just Loki)_

XXX

Glitter down the drains. Bobby pins tangled in her hair. That new Victoria’s secret scent everywhere, along with sweat and peroxide and hairspray.

That’s how it is after every game. Their war paint peeling off under the rush of the hot showers. Savage smiles – gone. Stick on pearls – gone. Lace and ribbon and school colors – gone. All gone.

All that’s left is their hard bodies, bullet thin, and their steel stomachs, and their powerful thighs, and the bruises, can’t forget the bruises, blooming everywhere, like someone fucked them hard, like someone just gripped their thighs and slid right in, no prep, no lube, no nothing, when the truth is something even more crazy, more dangerous – when the truth is those bruises are Nikki Cossentino’s hands, and Clarke Wexler’s, from throwing her up in the air, from leaving her weightless, from catching her right before she hit the ground.

Blind trust.

_But it’s not blind trust, is it?_   
_it’s trust earned every day on the mats_   
_every tumble every catch_   
_Loki makes **sure** it’s not blind_

That’s what cheerleading is.

XXX

She’s not serious about it, at first.

It’s just something to past the time. It’s just one of those things that you have to do because you’re girl, you know? And in Sigyn’s eleven-year-old mind, it’s the epitome of sexiness. And just _something_ \- you know? - just so she’s not bored.

_(there’s something dangerous about the boredom of teenage girls)_

It’s seventh grade and Sigyn’s just made the cheer squad and there is Loki.

Loki is new. She just transferred. Sigyn has never even heard her name before.

_(but she will, now, and forever)_

Loki has hair that glints oil slick like raven’s wings. Loki has hair so black it looks blue sometimes. She has the palest skin. Like cream. Eyes sharp, and wicked, like a cats. The same kind of vicious green as the final girl in Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Sigyn thinks, looking at her the first time

_(sigyn thinks this, of course, with her fake tan, and her bottle blonde hair)_

Sigyn thinks, _she doesn’t **look** like a cheerleader_. And then – later – _she doesn’t look like someone who would want to be a cheerleader_.

But after, when they put up the list, Sigyn sees her name, and then she sees Loki’s, and it’s the beginning of everything.

\---

Loki – _pale skinned, dark haired, Loki_ – never gets a tan. And she never dies her hair blonde.

\---

Loki is cheer captain in eighth grade. And Loki is cheer captain every year after.

_(except ninth grade, when then cheer captain is Vicky Prescott, but Loki beats her out of it in the end, like she does with everyone, like she does always)_

Loki just has something. Magnetizing. Riveting. Do you know how powerful you have to be to hold the attention of eighteen teenage girls? Do you know how powerful you have to be just to hold one? Teenage girls are apathetic. Teenage girls are empty shells filled with nothing but glitter and the cotton they forced down their throats that morning for breakfast. Teenage girls can laugh at your jokes and think – _she is the fattest, fakest slut I have ever seen._

But Loki isn’t just a teenage girl.

Loki is witch.

She has a certain magic to her. A voodoo hoodoo kind of thing. Like the stunts she pulls perfectly in the air. Her endless back tucks. The way not a single hair is out of place after. The way that – when she’s up there, our flyer – she seems to soar closer to God than anyone.

No one can ever manage to go quite as high as Loki does in a basket toss. No one is quite as suicidal. No one can fall into a deadman twenty feet above the ground quite like her.

_(but she’s got that devil’s luck, doesn’t she? it’s different for her)_

Maybe that’s why they listen to her. Maybe that’s why they follow. And if not for that then because –

“Gimme some handsprings, bitches,” Loki snaps, making her slow, willowy way back and forth in the gym, watching them on the mats, seemingly cool, and at ease, but still with that steel between her shoulders, that proud neck, that high head that says –

“Don’t fuck with me, Nikki.” Eyes narrowed, sharp emerald. “Loose limbs might fly for your five cent hand jobs, but I need you tight as JV pussy.”

The way she works everyone – hard. The way she makes them more than empty. The way she turns them sleek as an arrowhead. The way she makes body glitter war paint. The way she gives them purpose. The way she breathes life to them. The way she makes them not just pretty – but killer. Dangerous. Makes them more than teenager girls.

Maybe that’s why they follow her.

_You're not mean, you just want to be seen  
Want to be wild_


	2. thor

Everyone knows Loki has a brother.

_real brother? blood brother? adopted brother? stepbrother? no one really knows. they don’t look at all alike. but they have the same last name. and they live in the same house. so they call him her brother. but Loki only ever calls him –_

Thor.

Thor has that same magic Loki has, but in a different way. He’s the star quarterback. President of the National Honor Society. Charming, magnetizing, but in a different way from Loki. In a nicer way.

He’s a Nice GuyTM

He’s probably every girl’s fantasy. Even Sigyn has dreamed of him once, or maybe more than once. His powerful body over hers. His predatory eyes. The snap of his hips.

Dream things, of course. Sigyn can’t really picture it like that in real life. Him being so rough. He’s too nice for it. And from what Sigyn’s heard of it (or rather, from the lack of what she’s heard), Thor doesn’t mess around too much. Not like the other footballers, who know they can get any girl they want. Not like tight end Fandral, or defensive linebacker Volstagg, who fuck their way through girls and brag about it later, like it’s an accomplishment, like it’s an achievement, like it’s anything other than what it really is – disgusting.

Loki hardly ever mentions Thor. Sigyn should know, she’s Loki’s best friend. Or rather, best lieutenant. The vice to her captain. Been like that ever since the first day of practice, when Fabi Wilkers said she was too fat to cheer and Sigyn punched her in the face. Loki had liked that. Loki had smiled. Loki had said –

“I thought they were all sheep.” Looked Sigyn up and down, slowly, appraising. “You’re no sheep.”

And they had done everything together since then. Loki would give an order, and Sigyn would enforce it. Sigyn was the iron wall, and Loki was the king.

But still Loki never talked much about her home life. About her brother, the other star everyone revolved around.

Sigyn had tried asking about it once.

“Your brother – “

“He’s not my brother,” Loki snapped in reply, her words battery acid.

Sigyn had blinked, surprised at the anger in her voice. After that, she thought (thought for a long time, really) – _Loki must hate him. Loki must hate him a lot._

She didn’t know why. Was it because he was older, and yet he never pulled her into his circle? Didn’t do those cool things older brothers do, those things that seemed almost mandatory, like buying her beer or hooking her up with the best parties? Because Sigyn knew Loki got a lot of slack for that.

“What the hell, Lo?” Lana Reed had asked once, during a party she was setting up. “Can’t your brother buy us beer? Doesn’t he have a fake I.D.?”

Loki had just stared at her lacquered sea green nails

_(it was off season, January, no more football games and not yet competitive season, so there was no practice and it was okay to wear acrylics because you wouldn’t be in danger of breaking them, or poking someone’s eyes out)_

her eyes cast down so you couldn’t see her expression, and huffed –

“Thor’s a fucking loser. You know that.”

But Nikki Cossentino had other words, whispered ‘ _overprotective’_ in Sigyn’s ear.

“You wouldn’t know, of course.” She said with a secret smile on her face. “You weren’t there.” The relish in her voice, from being so close to Loki, because after all, when it wasn’t Loki they were after, it was Sigyn, and her position as best friend, number one lieutenant, ride or die.

“You had a fever, and so it was just me and Loki, at that party over there in Westside – _Go Wildcats_!” Nikki says in that irritating cheer voice, that _fuck-me-barbie-doll_ pitch, her spearmint breath on Sigyn’s cheek. She cackles at the glower on Sigyn’s face, then continues. “I was her buddy, ya know, since you weren’t there, and I lost track of her for a second ( _don’t look at me like that, it was just a second I_ _swear_ ) and anyway, I come back and I find her totally trashed ( _don’t tell Loki I told you this but she’s a total light weight_) draped over someone senior Westsider, who’s pawing her up and down, about to take her upstairs and I know it’s fucking time to go home.”

Sigyn risks a glance at Loki, scrolling endlessly on her phone, then looks back at Nikki.

“Yeah so we’re in my car, and Loki is bitchin’ about how I can’t take her home, because she’s gonna get in a shit load of trouble – and it’s like, what am I supposed to do? Take her drunk ass over to mines? _Helllll_ no. So I tell her to shut up, like more than once, and her phone is just blowing up, constantly, every other minute and it’s driving me _nuts_ so I pick it up to silence it – fully expecting it to be her ma, by the way – but it’s not. It’s _Thor_.”

Nikki smiles, wicked-like, all sharp teeth. “There’s gotta be twenty missed calls from him and about a hundred messages, all asking the same thing of course – where are you?” Now Nikki gives Sigyn another smile, sly and devious, like their sharing something. “And you know, Sissy, that I have a brother, too right? But my brother wasn’t blowing up _my_ phone that night. He wasn’t texting _me_ asking where I was. He, like every other brother everywhere, didn’t give a fuck. “ A pause. “But Loki’s did. It didn’t seem _real_. What is he, her brother or her _stalker_?”

Nikki cackles again, and Sigyn has a weird feeling at the pit of her stomach, some strange foreboding, so she tries to defend them.

“But that’s just how Thor is. He’s a good guy. Of course he would be worried.”

And know there is something strange in Nikki’s eyes, no longer amused, something like storm clouds. “Good guy?” She mimics, tasting the words on her mouth. “Yeah, well, he didn’t seem like a good guy when I got there. You should’ve seen him – raging out of that house like a hurricane. Two strides on his long legs and he was grabbing her from the backseat, all impatient like, holding her close to him like she was his property. He was angry too – pissed.” Nikki looks gone, remembering. “I’d never seen him angry before. And then he looked at me and said – he said – “ Nikki looks like she’s steeling herself, something ugly in her eyes, and then – “he said he didn’t like the fact his baby sister was friends with a _two bit whore_. He said he heard all about me, said I was poisoning her pretty little mind. Then he told me to get my cock sucking mouth off his fucking lawn before he called the cops on me for driving under the influence.”

Sigyn stares at Nikki, disbelief on her face, thinking of Thor Odinson, his easy smile, his forgiving nature, the way he stands at the podium during NHS meetings, and thinks, _it can’t be, it can’t possible be, Nikki is so full of –_

“So, good guy, huh?” Nikki laughs. “Yeah, Odinson is a _real_ good guy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hands up! stop resisting!  
> show me ur love


	3. cherry

Sigyn suddenly remembers, later.

The summer before eighth grade. The first time she ever met Thor.

Loki and her had been practicing back hand springs, something a cheerleader should know in her sleep but that Sigyn always choked up on. Loki had both her hands on the backs of Sigyn’s knees, her green eyes focused.

“You keep bending your knees to much.” She said, voice serious. “It’s making you horizontal to the ground. That’s why you keep falling on your back, Sissy.”

Sigyn was tall. It was another reason she wasn’t good at back handsprings. There was a lot more of her to break. When she first started cheerleading, she had wanted to be top girl. The girl who’s at the top of pyramids and does scorpions and falls twenty feet off the ground like it’s nothing into another person’s arms. But Sigyn wasn’t built for that. Sigyn was built for the bottom of the pyramid. For the foundation.

_(but Loki was tall too. the only difference was that she was crazy and that she did whatever she wanted to do)_

Afterwards, tired, they laid on the grass and Loki snaked her arm around Sigyn’s, a wicked smile on her face, green eyes gleaming, and the sun hit a certain way so that Sigyn could see her barely there freckles.

_(it made her more human, those freckles. made her more girl than witch)_

“Don’t worry,” she whispered like a promise. “You’re gonna take Fabi Wilker’s place this year, you’ll see. Coach will see. Everybody will see. I had a dream,” she said, voice ominous, green eyes suddenly too bright, “and my dreams never lie. It’s you and me, Sissy. Without you those bitches would be clawing at my back, dropping me in every stunt and hoping I break my neck.” Loki tucked a lock of Sigyn’s hair behind her ear, gentle. “Your place is waiting for you. So stop worrying.”

Sigyn had shivered. Sigyn had felt like she was burning at Loki’s touch. Loki had that witchy sense where she could always tell what Sigyn was thinking, and immediately find the words to ease her restless mind. And when Loki said something, when Loki talked about her dreams, it felt like law. It felt like destiny. It felt like it was going to happen because Loki had said so and Loki was never wrong. Ever.

Sigyn felt better afterwards. Stopped thinking about Fabi Wilker’s. Watched Loki instead, as she did stunt after stunt, back handsprings and round offs and other things, all pretty and perfect each time. 

That’s when Thor came out.

Sigyn hadn’t ever really seen him before. She’d just heard about him a lot. But when she saw him, she understood why she had. Why everyone talked about him so much.

Even back then, you could see Thor was different. _More_. He didn’t walk like other middle school boys. He didn’t stand like other middle school boys, slouched and indifferent, because they thought it was cool not caring.

No, Thor was fourteen, but he stood straight and solid like an oak. There was something kind about his face, but there was also something serious. _Like parents are_ , was the closet comparison Sissy could think of. Not the best one.

Thor had flaxen blonde hair and corn flower blue eyes and he was sucking on a cherry popsicle when he came out, the screen door slamming shut behind him with a bang, so loud and startling that Sigyn felt Loki’s muscles twitch before she arched back wrong and landed sloppily in surprise.

Thor had laughed. It was not an unkind laugh. But when Loki turned around Sigyn could see her face was flushed, and Sigyn blanked, because Sigyn had never seen Loki red faced, or any kind of embarrassed, not even that time they had to share the gym with the basketball team for a whole six months, and they would leer and laugh and make obscene gestures whenever the cheerleading team had to bend over for stretches, or flash their panties whenever they practiced arabesques, one leg above their heads, showing off their pussies. No, Loki had remained straight faced, and indifferent, and had told the boys to enjoy the show because it was the only pussy they were ever going to see in their sad, pathetic, Crayola-dick lives.

The basketball team stopped saying shit after that.

But here’s Loki, still pulling through on a stunt that sheer surprise would have made Sigyn land flat on her ass, and her face is flushed, and her head is turned away, something angry in her eyes, completely silent.

“Did I scare you, Lolo?” Thor teases, voice warm, something incredibly fond in his gaze –

_(but Sigyn is still tripping over the endearment, thinking Loki would never let herself be called something so cutesy, thinks who is he to not be dead right now? thinks about the time she called Loki Lolo and almost got decapitated)_

And Loki is straightening, losing her flush, pointedly ignoring her brother.

The rest of the afternoon goes the same way. Thor watches, and Loki practices, and everything is off under his gaze. Sigyn feels the back of Loki’s hamstring when she sets her up for another stunt, another backflip, and she can feel Loki trembling. Her muscles twitching, nervously.

Sigyn has never seen a nervous Loki.

Everything is off. Loki’s breathing. Loki’s stance. Even the flex of her muscles – wrong. Sigyn places a hand on Loki’s lower back, readying her for the back handspring, a gentle reminder of the proper way, and Sigyn can feel Loki’s heartbeat – all wrong. Fast. Irregular. The comforting staccato broken under Thor’s unflinching, focused, sky blue gaze. Sigyn thinks maybe Thor’s eyes are full of lighting. Maybe every time he looks at her, unbeknownst to Sigyn, he is striking Loki with the bolts of his sharp focus, breaking her routine, her calm, her orderly rhythm.

Sigyn feels like a prop between them. She feels like the mat in the gym, a precaution. If she were not there, Loki would fall and break her neck. So sloppy is she under Thor’s gaze - that gaze that doesn’t even register Sigyn’s existence.

Then comes the scorpion. Lifting her. Sigyn stares at Loki who insists, dark eyes a dare, like, _are you up to it? Can you do it? Or are you as much of a pussy as Fabi Wilkers likes to say you are?_

What can she do but do it?

So Sigyn launches her, and then Loki is slipping, falling, everything about the way she went up all wrong. Bad balance. One leg higher than the other when Sigyn was cradling her feet in her hands. Something about the launch up. Whatever it is, whenever Sigyn tries to change to one foot only, she can feel a tremor go through Loki’s body, and into her own hands, a tremor that ends with feet slipping out of her cradle, _down and down and down_ –

Into Thor’s waiting arms.

Sigyn doesn’t know how he got there so fast, but he catches Loki before she falls, his mouth an obscene red, his hands covered with sticky cherry as he holds Loki, gets the cherry all over her arms as well, Sigyn almost fainting from the scene because she thinks its blood.

Loki pushes off of him almost immediately, drops onto the grass, Thor clamoring to help her up, trying to touch her

_And Sigyn doesn’t really think it’s weird- then. Was more focused on Loki’s safety, on her hellfire green eyes, the turmoil of emotion on her face – to really focus on such things. But after Nikki, after her words, Sigyn considers, runs over the memory, careful-like, thinks – he touched her so much. His hands were like birds fluttering about her, trying to touch her, Loki knocking them off every time, and he seemed so desperate – to feel her, to know she was okay. Not like a brother, or even a parent really, but like a_

And Loki snaps, eyes fierce, face a storm, says –

“ _Stop Thor!_ I’m fucking fine **okay?** ” And its so quick, Signy thinks maybe it’s a trick of the light, but when Sigyn catches a glimpse of Loki’s face it looks like her eyes are watery, it looks like she’s about to cry, and Sigyn can’t understand for the life of her a single thing that is going on.

Loki pushes past Thor and heads inside. Sigyn knows not to follow, not immediately. Something about the wetness of her green eyes – tells her to wait. Tells her Loki does not want to see her like this. Instead she stares – like Thor, but not like Thor, whose cornflower blue are now a deeper blue – a sadder blue.

Watching him (watching Loki) Thor takes sight of her. He blinks, almost, like checking she’s real. He gives a sad smile. There a still streaks of cherry on him.

“She never lets me watch her practice at school. She says its embarrassing. I just wanted to watch this one time.”

Sigyn nods like she understands. To Sigyn’s extent of knowledge, Loki didn’t know what shame was. She can’t lie further than this, so she says –

“Loki is really good. Everyone looks up to her.”

Which is true.

Thor smiles at this, a better one, a genuine one, and his eyes seem to suddenly focus on her. Sigyn gulps. She can understand a little how Loki could mess up so much under his gaze.

“You too. You were really good too.”

And his voice is honest, but Sigyn remembers him staring at Loki, so she just _hmms_ in acquiesce.

Thor stares harder at her _hmm_ as if he knows what she’s thinking. Just like Loki.

“I’m serious you know. I know I seemed to be drilling holes into Loki,” he jokes, “but I see other things too.” He looks at her appreciatively. “You’re strong. Cradling her like that. Gentle. When you held her up in the air – it was her mistake, not yours. You held her fixed.”

Sigyn bristles at the implication – that Loki is the type to make mistakes constantly.

_(she realizes now there was no implication,  
thor was just honest like that)  
_

“It wasn’t her fault. It’s just an off day for her.”

Thor looks at her odd. “I wasn’t saying that. But okay.”

Sigyn feels the need to go on. To defend Loki even more. “She’s top girl. She’s the best of us all.”

Thor pauses at the words, looks at her like she’s missing something. “But without you, there is no top girl. Right?”

A genuine question. One Sigyn never thought of before, never thought of her importance. One she can’t answer, fixed as she is (as they all are) on Loki. So instead she deflects, asks

“Why did you come out then? If you wanted to watch her, you could’ve watched her from the window without her knowing.”

And this time it is Thor is hit with a question he can’t answer, who looks down at her words, ears red

And even Sigyn knows then ( _what she knows now_ ) that this is not a boy who looks down, not ever, not with his strong oak tree back that never bends, not with that steel between his shoulders _–_ this is not a boy who blushes either, so easy, not with that humbleness he holds, that knows shame for nothing _–_ but this is something he does easily for Loki, that bending, that bleeding into his cheeks, that blood – all things he does easily for Loki.

And says “She’s beautiful when she practices. Something so beautiful like that – you can’t just watch it from a window. I hate that she doesn’t get that.”

Sigyn doesn’t think much of these words then either – because isn’t it established fact that Loki is beautiful? How can you not admire something like Her? Something so perfect? The bends and dips in her body that define gravity, that fear no law of nature - isn’t it incredible? Isn’t it even more amazing than a star?

_(but she should know- when he says that.  
when he says that in the way an oak tree should never say things –  
bent, and leaning, and not steady  
like he’s already fallen)  
_

When Sigyn goes to her room later, Loki is face down on her bed.

“I hate that he saw that part of me.” Is all she says, and Sigyn knows she means the blemished, the unperfect part, and not the cheerleader part.

Sigyn sits beside Loki and runs a hand through her hair. When she looks at Loki’s arms, there are is no cherry, no remnants of Thor’s hands, and Sigyn thinks for a wild, random moment that Loki licked the cherry off her wrists.

But then she thinks, more rationally, that Loki most likely washed it off.

She doesn’t ask.

_You want him, but you just can’t win_   
_So you stay in the lights_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i adore yalls comments so plz - keep commenting :)


	4. dare you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first time fandral sees loki, he doesnt realize she's thor's sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought i mentioned it but!  
> this work was inspired by a novel i read, that is soon gonna be a show called 'dare me'  
> highly recommend!

The first time Fandral sees Loki, he doesn’t realize she’s Thor’s sister.

Both he and Thor are about to be sophomores, and they’re counselors at fish camp, which is a four day orientation program for the incoming freshmen. Thor signed up for it because the teachers kept pushing him to do it, and because he wanted to look out for his sister since he’s a nice guy like that. Fandral only signed up for it because Thor did, and because freshman girls were the easiest to fuck.

The first day of orientation he finds the freshman he wants to fuck, grins something nasty, and elbows Thor.

He points to the girl with ebony hair and green eyes and says

“Check her out.” Fandral waggles his eyebrows. Licks his lips suggestively.

Usually, Thor will smile. He won’t laugh, because he’s too nice that way. In this case, Thor does neither. There is a strange glint in his eyes when he says

“That’s my sister.”

It feels like being dumped in a bucket of cold water. Fandral drops the funny face. He feels his face burn. If it were any other guy, Fandral would refuse to be embarrassed, he would shrug and say ‘and?’ because he’s a dick that way, and most guys are dicks too so there’s no reason to feel bad.

But Thor is isn’t a dick. In fact, he’s a really nice guy, and he doesn’t hold double standards for women, like other guys do when they laugh at a really dirty joke about some random girl, but then get all offended when the same dirty joke is about their sister.

So yeah, Fandral feels bad.

But not bad enough that he never looks at her again.

XXX

The problem is, Loki is everywhere.

Fandral thinks he knows cheerleaders. His freshman year of high school, he knows for sure that he does. He fucks a lot of them. He fucks Vicky Prescott, head cheerleader, the most. She has this laziness about her that she makes seem cool – like the way she smokes cigarettes slow, or slinks down the hall, and can hardly every be bothered to try.

His sophomore year of high school, she complains about Loki a lot.

“Try hard bitch,” Vicky says, something like disgust in her eyes, taking another slow drag of her cigarette. “The way she looks at me - you can tell she thinks she’s better.” Another drag, release. “She called me fat.”

By way of insults, Fandral thinks it’s pretty weak, but apparently in cheer it might as well been useless fucking whore.

“She thinks she should be top girl. She thinks she should be the one doing deadmans, because apparently my ‘ _chunk-a-lunk’_ breasts are dragging everybody down.”

Fandral bites his tongue to keep from laughing, knows Vicky won’t like it if he does. Instead he says

“Aw, babe. But I like your chunk-a-lunk breasts.”

Vicky smacks his wandering hand, continues her rant, with something Fandral’s never seen in her indifferent, _too-cool-to-care_ eyes - something like hate.

She gives an ugly laugh. “As if that sasquatch could be top girl. You have to be below five feet five to fly, hon.” She spits out, her eyes far away, like she’s not even in Fandral’s bed, like they haven’t just had mind blowing sex.

“And that other girl Sigyn, Sissy – whatever the _fuck_ they call her – she’s no better. She’s tough I’ll give you that – kneed a girl in the pussy when she was talking shit about her – but she’s a fucking slave to whatever Loki says. Obsessed.” Another drag, exhale. “Fucking dyke.”

And after a while, middle of sophomore year, there is no more fucking Vicky Prescott because there _is_ no more Vicky Prescott – she breaks three ribs and punctures a lung falling into a deadman and then transfers schools.

After that, everything changes. The cheerleaders change.

When Vicky Prescott was captain, they walked like her. They slinked down hallways, their skirts hitched up a little high, their eyes heavy with gold eyeshadow, did the bare minimum during practice and still could do those little tricks that made people _ohhh_ and _ahhh_ , and of course back handsprings like it was nothing, and they were soft looking, but in the most delicious way possible, in every hour glass curve of their body, and they knew people were jealous of them, and they knew people watched them, and they were smug in the face of it.

But when Vicky leaves, and Loki becomes captain, they are no longer soft. They no longer slink down halls. They prowl. They are no longer careless cool, but fierce discipline. Their spines are like iron, and when they walk it’s not in a pack, but in a formation. They know people watch them, but they don’t watch back. They no longer indulge in little tricks, but rather form live, breathing, moving mountains. Their bodies become hard, and lean, and well oiled machines. They are beautiful in a dangerous way. And Loki is at the head of all of it.

How can he not look at her after that?

XXX

There is a party, one day, like there always is, at somebody’s house. The only thing that makes this party stand out is that Thor’s not going, and if Thor’s not going, it means Loki is.

_(there is a rule, fandral knows, that thor has - Loki, his precious loki, isn’t allowed at parties)_

Loki comes with Sigyn, like she always does, those girls locked together wherever they go

_(reminds him of that song – uh-huh, you know what is – black and yellow black and yellow black and yellow)_

along with some other cheerleaders. Soon, though, they’re lost in the crush of bodies, and Fandral has his own body to occupy him anyway – a girl who plays basketball, wears a Metallica t-shirt, has a great rack, and wears a nose ring. He thinks her names Alex. He’s too busy sticking his tongue down her throat to care.

Later, he’s in the kitchen with some other people, Alex under his arm, talking shit with some guys when a cheerleader walks in. _JV_. You can tell because she doesn’t have that Loki Odinson walk down yet, and she blushes when Trey Jordan, star of the boys lacrosse team, stares her down like she’s his next meal.

“Hey, babydoll.” He grins, and the girl blushes even more, ducking that golden hair, her hand fidgeting on her charm bracelet. “You want something to drink?”

The girl murmurs a no, but she’s so quiet about it that Trey keeps pushing.

“Come on,” he drawls, “one drink won’t hurt.”

And the girl says no again, still just as quiet, her head down like she’s ashamed, and Trey keeps pushing, and Fandral is just about to step in when Loki and Sigyn show up.

Loki enter first, her eyes narrowing on Trey Jordan with his hand on the JV’s shoulder, like she heard the mouse quiet ‘no’ of the JV girl from across the house, from underneath all the bass of the stereo and the sex noises and unintelligible conversation and yelling - like she’s specially attuned to the cries of JV lambs.

“What’s going on here?” Loki demands, and the JV lamb finally looks up at the sound of her voice, heavenly relief in her eyes.

“Captain,” she sighs, but it sounds like God.

Loki spots the Coors light in Trey’s hand, and realization dawns on her. She grabs the JV lamb by the wrist, and pulls her to her.

“I don’t let Varsity drink before a big game, Jordan.” Loki says coolly. “And I don’t let my JV girls drink at all.”

But Trey Jordan isn’t having it. He rolls his eyes. “Are you serious right now, Odinson?”

Loki gives a patient smile. “Okay. Let me rephrase that for you: I don’t let _any_ of my girls take drinks from guys who only want to get them drunk so they can fuck them.”

Trey Jordan turns red and the atmosphere in the kitchen goes tenser than a girl on a tightrope.

“What the fuck are you trying to say, Odinson?”

“Oh?” Loki raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I thought I was pretty clear? Then let me make it clearer.” Loki’s eyes narrow, and her lips go tight in a snarl. “Don’t touch my girls with your _would-be-rapist_ hands, Jordan.”

The word is ugly, but the fact that everyone else was ignoring it is uglier. The fact that nobody told Jordan to knock it off when he was obviously trying to ply that girl with alcohol, like he’s done on occasions before, getting girls drunk and then taking them upstairs when they can barely walk. He gets away with it for a lot of reasons – he’s a guy, and he’s popular, and he’s a lacrosse prodigy being recruited by twenty seven different colleges so his authority goes uncontested. People don’t even flinch at his behavior, can ignore it, but they can’t ignore it when Loki says the words out loud, cant help but flinch when hit with the blunt truth of it.

The atmosphere is so tense Fandral can barely breathe. Jordan must feel it too because he laughs to break it, a nasty, degrading laugh, like Loki has no idea what she’s talking about, like she’s overreacting.

Instead he says, almost carelessly like he can hardly be bothered –

“Choke on my cock you stupid cun-“

And Loki’s hand is like a cobra it strikes so fast – raking her nails down the side of Jordan’s face before Fandral can barely blink.

Jordan shouts, shoves her hand away, but not before falling into some red solo cups, getting the back of his letterman all wet.

He’s fucking pissed now. His lips are curled in a sneer and his pupils are blown wide. He raises his arm almost instinctively, like its second nature to him, and Fandral is ready to throw his own arm in, split Jordan’s lip wide open with his fist, when Loki says

“Do it.” Her voice a challenge. “I dare you, Jordan.” She steps closer, fearless, even though Loki is a sophomore and Trey is a senior, only slightly taller than her, but twice as wide, and she has the most delicate wrists Fandral has ever seen.

Loki steps so close to Jordan that they’re almost nose to nose. “But I’m warning you - you only have one shot to make it good. Because I’m not like those other girls who’ll say they ran into a pole. You hit me, and I’m telling the police it was assault and battery. I’m pointing you out in the court room. I’m telling them your name. And then bye-bye go the Purdue scouts, and the Duke scouts, and the Berkeley scouts, and all the rest of the twenty four universities who don’t know what a skeevy piece of shit you are.”

Loki smiles. A vein is bulging on Jordan’s forehead.

“So what’s it going to be, Trey?”

And everybody in the kitchen is hardly breathing, waiting for Jordan’s fist to smash into Loki’s porcelain face, and Fandral is waiting too, his fist clenched and ready to fight, and finally Trey –

Walks away.

He tries to make it cool, obviously. Tries to make the blood leaves his face. Leaves as slowly as he can, as if he isn’t leaving because of Loki’s challenge. Smooths back his hair. Says

“Whatever cunt,” like he doesn’t care, and then walks out of the room.

And everyone can breath again. Except Loki, who looks like she was breathing the whole time. Who doesn’t even look shaken by the situation.

And of course, because everything is fine again, Alex has to start some more drama, has to snort into her red solo cup like she’s laughing at something.

Loki catches her on it. She raises an eyebrow.

“What’s so funny?”

Alex Fetta is crazy hot, but she’s also plain crazy. She plays varsity basketball, is one of the only girls that can match Loki in height, and would have a good chance being scouted by a big ten school like Jordan if her temper on the court wasn’t so bad that she got thrown out every game.

Alex Fetta, also, did not believe cheerleading was a sport.

“Big game?” Alex asks in reply, mocking. “You act like it’s a sport. You act like it isn’t just y’all shaking your asses to Kanye.”

Loki looks amused. She whispers something to Sigyn, and Sigyn laughs.

Alex Fetta doesn’t like that.

Loki gives her a condescending smile. “And you would know what a sport is because…?”

“I play basketball you insipid bitch.” Alex Fetta snaps, and Fandral knows this is not going to end well, knows Fetta is at the end of her leash, because Fetta’s leash is a very short one, and knows Loki does as well, can tell by the glint in her eye, and guess what?

Alex Fetta once jumped a girl twice her size after a game. She once punched a girl _during_ a game and broke her nose. At school, her worst fight on record ended with her yanking a girl’s hoops and tearing a chunk of ear right off.

But still, Loki doesn’t blink when she says

“You play basketball?” She blinks, innocent. “But that would imply you do more than get thrown out every game because you’re such a shit player? And we all know that’s not true.” And then Loki smiles, her dagger smile, and this time Loki _is_ getting hit, because Alex Fetta is swinging, lips curled in a snarl, but her fist never lands because Sigyn stops it.

_(sigyn, the silent protector. sigyn, the rook to loki’s queen. sigyn, the bad, bad, lieutenant to loki’s war general)_

Her arm doesn’t even shake against the force of Fetta’s anger.

“Careful, Fetta.” She says instead, her eyes a cool blue. “You may throw balls around, but we cheerleaders throw bodies around.” Sigyn presses closer, then whispers a warning in Fetta’s ear.

“Bodies like you.”

Then Sigyn let’s go of Fetta’s arm and Alex falls back, face flushed in embarrassment, and Sigyn walks back besides Loki, and Loki watches it all, her green eyes a siren’s call.

“Let’s get out of here,” she says, turns like nothing in the room is worth her attention, and Sigyn trails behind her like a dog, and the JV girl follows helplessly like a lamb.

Both Fandral and Fetta are seventeen then. Trey Jordan is eighteen.

Loki is only fifteen.

She doesn’t look at him once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENT PRETTY PLEASE?


	5. cult

Volstagg’s always been a little afraid of Loki.

He’s not like Fandral, or even most boys, in that way. Fandral looks at Loki sometimes in a way that is lovesick. Aching.

_(not that his loves means anything, really – he still fucks other girls like crazy)_

And the rest of the boys look at Loki like they’re looking through Loki – like they’re undressing her constantly with their eyes.

Volstagg, on the other hand, just looks at Loki. He’s not sexually aroused by her, or half in love with her, because honestly he doesn’t even see her as a girl.

Volstagg knows girls. He fucks girls. Girls are supposed to be soft and big breasted and have curves you can hold onto. They smile easy. They touch you easy. And their words are as soft as their touch.

The only other girls Volstagg knows besides these are his mother and sister. And they’re both soft as well. His mom is a traditional, stay at home mom, and she fusses over Volstagg even though he’s twice her height and no longer six years old. She bakes angel cakes and lemon meringue pies and apple fritters and is a bit spacey. She can’t change a tire to save her life and leaky pipes are a mystery to her and she always goes to the mechanic to get her oil changed. She watches reruns of _I Love Lucy_ and reads trashy romance novels that have equally as trashy titles like _secrets of a summer night_ and _where the wind blows, the heart follows_. She still calls him her little boy. Volstagg hasn’t been a little boy in a long time.

Volstagg’s sister is soft too, but in a different way. She’s the same age as Loki but the two of them couldn’t be anymore different. Eira at fourteen is not Loki at fourteen. Eira wears dangly earrings and has a diary and wears a million bracelets on her arm and changes her hair color almost every other weekend. Eira’s room is nauseous mix of loud pink and exploding purple and hurl worthy green resplendent with baby lips and streaks of eyeliner on her rug and different boy bands posted everywhere on her hot pink tiger claw wallpaper. Eira has the name of a different boy on her mouth every other family dinner and goes through the circadian rhythm of obsessing over said boy then going out with said boy then getting dumped by said boy then crying over said boy then egging said boys house and then finding another boy again.

Eira also has this thing with phases. She goes through the _paint-her-nails-black-and-wear-studded-belts-and-run-purple-highlights-through-her-hair-and-listen-to-evanescence_ phase. She goes through the _wear-Nike-shirts-and-trainers-and-Supreme-merch-and-logos-only_ phase. She goes through the _wear-mom-jeans-and-fall-colors-and-soft-autumn-scarves-and-listen-to-the-1975_ phase. She goes through a lot more phases than Volstagg can even remember.

_(loki, though, never goes through a phase._   
_loki never needs to find herself)_

When Volstagg thinks of his mom, and his sister, and all the girls he’s fucked, Volstagg knows Loki is a girl in a way he doesn’t understand.

But maybe what Volstagg finds really off putting about Loki is that she’s nothing like her brother.

The first time Volstagg goes to Thor’s house he already knows about Loki. He knows she’s just as popular as Thor. He knows she’s on the cheerleading team. He knows she’s a year younger. Volstagg goes to Thor’s house already having set expectations of Loki in his head.

One – she will be blonde and blue eyed

Two – she will be soft spoken

Three – she will have kind eyes

Four – she’ll have a nice smile

Five – she might, in the future, fuck him

The reality of which is

One – she has black hair and green eyes

Two – she spits daggers instead of words

Three – she has eyes like the edge of a knife

Four – she has teeth like a shark, and you can’t call what sharks do smiling

Five – she might, in the future, murder him in his sleep and chop off his dick with a steak knife

When Volstagg realizes expectation one is incorrect, he’s disappointed, but overall pleased by how hot she is. And then the rest of his expectations collapse and Volstagg realizes just how wrong he is.

Thor introduces her like this

“Hey this my –“

“Loki.” The girl cuts in, curt _(not soft spoken),_ with a frown _(not a nice smile_ ), and annoyed ( _not kind_ ) eyes.

Loki, when she looks at Volstagg, maintains eye contact. She doesn’t twitch. She doesn’t blush. She’s younger, but she’s not intimidated. She’s not at all like Eira, who would be shaking in her Ugg ( _basic girl phase_ ) boots if an older boy talked to her.

And Thor just smiles at her introduction, as if it was cute, or something silly, and not at all rude or disrespectful, and Volstagg knows the main reason he had that set of expectations is because he was figuring Loki would be like her brother. Nice. Except that niceness in girls is usually something weaker, something gentler and throw-away, and niceness on boys can still mean strong.

Loki is not nice.

Loki unsettles him.

If you ever watch Loki during cheerleading practice, you would know. And since the cheerleaders practice outside sometimes with the football team, Volstagg knows.

Most boys will look at them in the hall, and think ass and titties. Volstagg knows for a fact Fandral does. Volstagg knows for a fact the whole school does.

They think, probably –

_Sluts, whores, fake tans, fake glitter, skanky skirts, probably gave Jimmy Fecks a hand job, definitely gave Roger Davies a blowjob, probably have a million STDs, stupid, low IQ, bubble brain bitches, only joined cheer because they wanted to shake their fat asses_

And don’t know, definitely –

_the way their pyramids seems to be alive, how they stack and restack like cups, how they bend and break and bend again, how sometimes they will do things and it will look like flying, the way loki makes them run more laps than even the football team, and more suicides, and how sometimes they will throw up, and how sometimes one of them will fall, and how all the time they will leave with bruises, and hard eyes, and look at Loki like she is their God._

The school thinks of them as a cult, but in a thoughtless, insulting and mocking way.

Volstagg thinks of them as a cult in a real, fanatic, and dangerous way.

And when Volstagg sees Loki in the center of all of it, how can he not fear her a little?

_(loki is a girl in a way volstagg will never understand)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	6. prophet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prophet - proclaimer of the will of God

When Fandral thinks of Loki, he thinks of diamonds.

Beautiful, but you can’t hug a diamond. Can’t kiss a diamond. Would cut your lips on its edges if you tried.

Fandral also knows that if Thor wasn’t her brother, he would’ve fucked her by now, would’ve whispered the sweetest nothings in her ear. The only question is if she would’ve let him.

_(probably not, fandral also thinks)_

Fandral has a problem – he knows. He’s insatiable. He can’t get enough of women. He can’t help but fuck them all. His love is useless, because even in love, he wouldn’t be able to fuck just one girl. So he doesn’t bother making promises, because he knows he wouldn't be able to keep them.

And so, because he can’t flirt openly with Loki, he likes to tease her instead.

Loki is already captain that first time he does it. The whole football team is over at Thor’s house for some team bonding. Most of the guys are hoarding Thor’s Xbox, and the rest are jeering at the stupid plays some of them make on 2K17. He notices pretty early on that Loki and Sigyn have gone outside to practice stunts and thinks it’s the perfect time to sneak out while everybody’s distracted.

Fandral is outside in the hall when Volstagg catches him. He watches Fandral with suspicious eyes.

“Where are you going?”

_Fuck._

“Getting some water.”

Volstagg’s eyes narrow. “Bullshit. You’re going to mess with Thor’s little sister.”

_Fucker. Why ask if you already know?_

Fandral rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna mess with her. I’m just getting sick of the sausage fest alright? You know I would never hurt Thor’s little sister.”

_(but also, unspoken – you know I would never hurt thor’s little sister because he would hurt me)_

Volstagg only gives him a wary look.

“I’m serious, Fandral. Be careful with her. She’s not like the girls you’re used to.”

And Fandral’s thinking, _yeah, no shit, she’s Thor’s sister_ , but Volstagg will never not be weird when it comes to Loki. Volstagg will have this habit the following next few years of looking at her not as a girl, or even a person, but as a snare in the woods waiting to snap.

So, Fandral shrugs off Volstagg’s warning, thinks nothing of it (then), and heads out to see Loki and Sigyn practicing in the yard. Summer is on its last legs, and as such the weather is still sticky with heat, so Fandral nicks a grape flavored popsicle before heading out, the screen door slamming shut behind him with a bang as loud as an engine backfiring.

Loki doesn’t even flinch – finishes her standing back tuck with her feet firmly on the ground.

Both of them are rosy cheeked from the heat, their hair slightly damp with sweat, but Loki’s eyes look effortlessly cool.

Fandral bites off a piece of popsicle before grinning.

“Hello, little sister.”

Loki raises her arms above her head, preparing herself for a front handspring. She doesn’t bother looking at him.

“We’re busy here do you mind?”

_(she was colder than his popsicle. and that shit was so cold it made his teeth ache)_

Fandral bit off another chunk of his popsicle. He only knew one way to get her attention.

“You’re better than Prescott said you were.” He says thoughtfully, and it’s not even a lie.

Loki looks at him.

_(it feels like winning something. It feels like everything)_

It’s the first time she ever does, and Fandral is struck with the thought that he’s never seen her green eyes full on. The intensity of that gaze almost startles him, and he can finally see how she and Thor are related. The way they look at people is like standing under a spotlight, alone.

Loki’s eyes rove over his body, and if it were any other girl Fandral would swear she was checking him out, but this is Loki, and he knows better. Loki’s cataloguing his features. She’s trying to place where she’s seen him before, and who he is.

“I know you,” she says suddenly, as if he hasn’t been over to her house a million times already, being one of Thor’s best friends. “Fandral,” she adds, almost as an afterthought. As if his name isn’t important. “Vicky used to drop your name all the time during practice like it was a trophy.” She stares at him, obviously unimpressed. “Like it was something to be proud of.”

A snicker to the left of her, and Fandral suddenly remembers Loki’s silent shadow Sigyn. She looks like she’s trying hard not to laugh. Fandral’s jaw twitches.

He still smiles though, because he's endlessly polite.

“You’re prettier than her, you know? I think it’s great that you’re captain now.” He says, because he knows most girls like that, smoozing that is, especially when he says it with his best smile, and devil-may-care blue eyes.

_(but fandral should’ve known, really, because didn’t volstagg say so? loki is not most girls)_

Loki’s face goes blank.

“So because I’m prettier than her, you think I’m a better captain? You think that’s how cheerleading works? Our talent is proportional to our attractiveness?”

And Fandral feels that smile on his face getting faker and faker by the second, thinks to himself, _this is so much harder than it usually is_ , thinks _, that is the stupidest thing_ _I could have said_ , thinks, _couldn’t she have just taken the compliment?_

“Listen, I was just trying to be nice.” Fandral bristles. “And in fact, I think it’s horrible what happened to Vicky. She was a good captain.”

Loki’s eyes are cold emeralds. “She was a shit captain. She always smoked a joint with Toby Crenshaw before practice and she was always late. She put Lana Reed on a diet that almost killed her. She thought it was cool not to try, and it showed in her sloppy technique. You know what happened the day she fell?”

Loki’s eyes are overly bright. Fandral shakes his head no.

“I told her she would fall. You see, one of her calves was bigger than the other. She tried to spray tan the difference away, but I could tell. Licked my finger and ran it down her leg and the orange shit came off like paint. You either have muscle or you have twig, and Vicky had Q-tip. She’d be off balance when they threw her in the air. I told her I should be top girl. I told her it wasn’t safe. Worse, she missed practice that week. I told her she wasn’t ready.” Loki whips her head to the side. “And what’d she tell me Sigyn?”

In a flash, Sigyn is besides her, blue eyes electric.

“ _Shut your dyke-ass mouth, bitch!”_ Sigyn snarls, like she’s yelling _give me your fucking money_! instead. “ _I’m tired of your bullshit_!” And Sigyn raises her arm quick as a snake, like she’s going to strike Fandral, but at the last minute pats his cheek instead.

“Then she tore her acrylics down the side of Loki’s face like she was a tiger,” Sigyn says in her regular voice, digging slightly into Fandral’s skin with her nails as an example, before quickly dropping her hand, remembering herself.

Sigyn shrugs. “I’m pretty sure she was high. And those acrylics were against regulation,” she adds, almost like an afterthought.

“You know the rest of course,” Loki says, and this time there is an eerie smile on her face. “Broke three ribs.”

“Popped her left lung like a balloon.” Sigyn chimes in.

“But I warned her, didn’t I?”

“Yeah you did.” Sigyn echoes.

Loki turns to face Fandral and pins him with her gaze. Her eyes are ungodly.

“I knew it would happen,” she says, eyes as bright as green hellfire.

“I saw it in my dreams, you see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love me, love me  
> say that you love me :)


	7. gypsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gypsy - member of a tribe of people who has no home

_I was born in the wagon of a travellin' show_   
_My mama used to dance for the money they'd throw..._

Fandral is sure she’s a witch, after that. Is even more sure after what she does to him, because who but a witch could do it?

This is how Fandral falls in love.

Fandral’s mom has never been a part of the picture. His father and her aren’t properly divorced, but they aren’t really married either. Heidi Kjerfell only ever comes to their house when they aren’t home, and she needs to snag some money. His mother is a tweaker, and a whore, and cares for nobody but herself.

Fandral doesn’t understand why his father never divorced her. Maybe it was too much of a hassle. Maybe, even after all of it, he was still in love with her. Whatever it was, it was the reason she was still in their lives, but also not a part of it, and so neither of them could really let her go.

It was toxic. It was smothering. It was the most traumatic game of push and pull ever.

One irrelevant day, Fandral skips school. His dad is working so he knows he won’t be found out. Typically on the weekdays nobody is home until at least four. Figures that Heidi would stop by at such a time, which she does.

Somehow, she still has keys to their house. Fandral’s father refused to move, and apparently refused to change the locks as well by the looks of things. Fandral’s in his room when he hears the jangle of a door being opened. He immediately sits up in his bed, scared that his dad has come home early for some reason. But when he doesn’t see his truck in the driveway, he knows who it really is.

Heidi.

There’s a car idling on their street, a shady guy looking out of it, and Fandral immediately knows it’s one his mom’s new boyfriends. When he goes out to the hall he hears rustling in his father’s room, and creaks open the door to see Heidi going through his drawers, trying to find anything of value.

“Heidi.”

His mom jerks around at the sound of her name, her face twitchy because of the drugs.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Fandral runs a rough hand down his jaw. His fists clench.

“I should be asking you that.” But really, he already knows. She dropped a baggy of ecstasy last time she was here, shit she never touched because she was strictly on heroin, but the kind her ex-con of a boyfriend sold.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” She continues, ignoring what he just said. “You’re skipping, aren’t you?” She accuses, before snorting. “Typical. Useless just like your father.”

“Heidi, if you don’t get out here in five minutes, I’m going to call the cops.” He says through gritted teeth.

This catches her attention. She stops rummaging through his father’s thing. She turns to face Fandral in a fury.

“You’re going to call the cops on me?” She spits. “Your own mother?” She asks incredulously. “I wouldn’t need the money if you just gave me back the bag of ecstasy,” she snarls, her blue eyes burning sapphires. “I birthed you. Don’t you dare talk to me that way.”

Fandral feels the last of his patience wearing thin, and that is a dangerous thing for Fandral because he is endlessly patient – has had to be his whole life with a mother like Heidi, and a father who’s never cared enough.

“Just because you birthed me doesn’t give you the right to come and steal from us whenever you like, Heidi! I’m not giving you back the bag of ecstasy. You need help. You’re sick, _seriously_ sick-“

“Do you know how hard it was, carrying you for nine months?” His mother cuts in obtrusively. “Do you?” She pushes, eyes as hard as flint. “You owe me your whole fucking world, Fandral. You owe me every single little thing, from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your toes. Those hands of yours that are so good at catching things? You owe me that. The blood in you that keeps your heart pumping? You owe me that. Everything you have is thanks to me. So really,” she says, eyes glinting, “what’s a little money to all that?”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

His mother’s lips curl into a snarl. “Fuck y-“

“I said get the FUCK out!” He yells, grabbing her by the arm, and she fights in his grasp like a wild thing, her feet kicking out at everything she can reach at, turning over tables and cabinets and sending papers flying.

He drops her on his front doorstep, where the car still idles nearby.

His hands are trembling. He feels rattled. Vulnerable.

“I’ll get your ecstasy,” he manages to spit out. “So don’t come back here. Ever. Or I really will call the cops.”

Heidi just stares at him, her gaze filled with something putrid. Something dead and rotting.

 _Mother._ That’s what she called herself. The word feels alien, something separate from the thing beneath him. If it’s a name, its never been Heidi’s. Heidi’s has always been

_Pain. Baggage. Stranger._

He still feels shaken when he goes inside, and calls Thor on his cell. Thor of course, had hidden the ecstasy as a favor for Fandral. He knew about Fandral’s mother. Nobody else knew. Not Volstagg, or Hogun, or any of the other guys on the team, or even his other friends. It would feel weird telling them. It was too heavy. But telling Thor, with his serious face, and his careful words, hadn’t felt weird at all. It felt like being anchored. Like having an older brother who always knew what to do, led you the right way, and above all understood.

So when he calls Thor he doesn’t bother pretending, doesn’t hide the scratchiness of his voice, or feel the need to act like nothing’s wrong.

“Hey man,” he says after the fourth ring, when Thor finally picks up. “Heidi-“ and here his voice cracks, and he needs to take a deep breath to recover. “Heidi came over again. I need the ecstasy back. She just won’t stop breaking into our house.” He pauses again, because it feels like his throat’s on fire, and he think he might just burst into tears. “I don’t know what to do.” He says desperately.

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence, where Fandral wonders if he overestimated the amount of baggage Thor is willing to carry, when a voice finally speaks up.

“It’s Loki.”

Fandral feels his muscles seize up. It’s like being hit with a truck you didn’t see coming.

“Fuck,” he says, then he says it again in his mind, because he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. “Shit, I’m sorry-“ and Fandral knows he’s rambling, but he can’t seem to stop. “-uh, could you tell Thor I called? And tell him – tell him that it was important. And that I really need the ecstasy back because – “

“I can do it.”

“-if I don’t I’m going to be –“ Fandral stops. “I’m sorry?”

“If you tell me where it is I can bring it over.”

“Really?” And it sounds doubtful, so Fandral tries again. “Actually, yeah, that would be – “

“I mean if you’re uncomfortable I can just –“

“-great.”

There’s an awkward silence again, before either of them speaks up.

“I’ll be there in five.” Loki says suddenly.

“Sounds good.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

The line goes dead and Fandral realizes he never even told her where the ecstasy is. He sends her a text and then scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably, wondering how awkward this is going to be.

XXX

When Loki comes over she’s fresh-faced.

Fandral had cleaned up a little and sprayed some axe body spray because he didn’t want to seem like a mess, but when he sees Loki he thinks it probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

Her hair is down around her face and she isn’t wearing any make up. She blinks owlishly at him from beneath his doorstep wearing a T-shirt so big it falls slightly above her knees. It says Destin, Florida along with the caption ‘ _Sun’s Out, Buns Out!_ ’ with a picture of a bunch of hotdog buns under an umbrella by the beach. The only ‘jewelry’ she wears is a friendship bracelet on her right arm, which looks like the kind of thing someone made in the third grade.

Fandral is suddenly hit hard with the reminder that she is only fifteen.

The thing is - it’s hard to remember sometimes. With her height, and her proud shoulders, and the way she walks in the halls, and the way she stands up to people – it’s easy to forget she’s still just a kid. Or when Fandral sees her at parties, her face all done up, looking like she just stepped out of a magazine catalogue, or a runway, with those green eyes that burn brighter than a star – it’s so very hard to remember she’s actually a full two years younger than him.

 _Fuck, she’s probably still a virgin_ , he thinks incredulously, then cringes away from the thought because it’s the last thing he wants on his mind right now.

Still, it’s strange to see her so soft like this, without her war paint, wearing a tacky t-shirt, a kiddie bracelet on her arm, and –

 _Are those freckles?_ Fandral thinks wondrously, and then, just as suddenly – _Cute_.

“Can I come in?” Loki asks politely, and Fandral blinks out of his reverie.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that.” He smiles sheepishly.

Loki stares at him curiously. “It’s fine.” She says, and then turns to survey his house, trailing one finger on the countertop as she walks.

“Do you have the…?” Fandral trails off helplessly, not wanting to say the words out loud in front of Thor’s little sister, who seems all perfect and clean cut edges.

Loki only blinks though, as if she’d forgotten. “Oh. Right.” She reaches into her pocket and places the plastic baggy into Fandral’s waiting hands.

He grins this time, his megawatt smile. “Thanks. I really needed it back.”

Loki, however, doesn’t seem in any way flustered by his smile, only giving a quiet ‘no problem’ in response.

Fandral goes to his room and Loki follows – watches as he hides the baggy into the many folds of his clothes.

He turns to face her when he’s done, feeling slightly better now that the ecstasy are back in his hands.

“Hey, I just wanted to say thanks again –“

“Who’s Heidi?”

The question is abrupt, and more than a little intrusive, and Fandral’s sure if it had been anybody else who asked that they would’ve been embarrassed and ashamed of their forwardness.

But it’s Loki who asks and she doesn’t look at all self-conscious – doesn’t even flinch at the hard gaze Fandral pins her with.

“None of your business,” he snaps nastily, and then regrets it instantly. Loki’s just a kid – he shouldn’t talk to her that way. It’s just that Heidi is always such a touchy subject for him that he can’t help but lash out.

Still, Loki seems to take his response in stride – much to Fandral’s relief.

“Oh.” She says quietly but doesn’t look otherwise upset. “I’m sorry.”

And Fandral sighs, stares at Loki while she looks awkwardly at nothing, and puts his head in his hands.

“No – don’t be. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.”

“She’s your mother, isn’t she?”

And Fandral looks up sharply, stares at her with suspicion in his eyes.

“Did Thor tell you that?”

Loki’s response is so immediate it’s startling. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head furiously.

“No – definitely not! Thor’s good at keeping secrets. It’s just that…”and here Loki trails off, bites her lip as if unsure to continue, and it looks so strange on Loki – Loki who’s so sure of everything – that Fandral can’t help but stare.

“…I could tell.” She finishes lamely.

Fandral snaps out of his staring. “You could tell?” He asks doubtfully.

“My mom’s like yours.” She adds, and this time Fandral can’t help but give a sharp scoff.

_What the hell is she playing it? Thor definitely told her – she’s lying out of her ass. I can’t **believe** I trusted him._

“Nice try, Loki.” He glares at her. “But last time I checked Frigga was definitely in the picture. If you’re going to lie, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

And this time it is Loki’s turn to lash out.

“Frigga’s not my mother.” She says sharply, voice like cut glass. She softens her tone when she sees the bewildered look on Fandral’s face. “Frigga’s not my mother, but I wish she was. My real mother was a homewrecker.” Loki lowers her eyes for a second, before locking them back on Fandral’s. “And she left me when I was a kid.”

Fandral’s throat feels dry. There’s a loud buzzing in his ears, and what she’s saying sounds crazy, but also makes sense. Thor and Loki have never acted like true siblings. They never really talked in school or acknowledged each other in the halls. If anything, sometimes it seemed like they were strangers, like they didn’t know each other at all. And though Thor always had something nice to say when Loki’s name was brought up, the same couldn’t be said for Loki. Loki, who whenever Fandral was at their house rolled her eyes endlessly at Thor’s comments, and gave him baleful looks, and blatantly ignored him when he called for her. Loki, who had eyes like the felt on a pool table, and ebony hair, and ivory skin - a distinct contrast to Thor’s storm blue eyes, golden hair, and sun-kissed complexion.

Loki, who had always refused to call Thor her brother.

Fandral swallows. “I had-I had no idea.”

Loki fiddles with her bracelet. “Most people don’t.”

And then silence stretches too long – so long that Fandral feels the need to say something. He clears his throat.

“Yeah, well, you’re right. Heidi’s my mom.” He says, and then goes on to tell her his fucking life story, and why the ecstasy was a big deal, and how his mom’s new boyfriend is a drug dealer, _because why the hell not?_ Loki’s not a friend, so it’s not like it will be awkward later, and though they’re not related, she still has the same serious face that Thor has, that doesn’t shy away from heavy topics, and eyes that tell you she’s listening.

And above all – she understands. Even more than Thor, because she’s lived it.

“And I just don’t know – I don’t get why I’m upset.” Fandral finishes, his hands in his hair. “I don’t get why I care. I don’t get why I never call the cops the moment I see she’s broken in. I mean - when I was a kid she used to forget me at the store all the time.” Fandral laughs abruptly, a sad kind of laugh. “She’d forget a lot of things. Forget to pick me up from school, forget about me in the park, forget about me in the car. And it’s like – haven’t I learned? Why am I still here, waiting for her-“

_Waiting for her to love me?_

Fandral stops abruptly, feels his throat burning with pent up emotion, knows that his voice at the end sounded like it was going to break. _Fuck_ , he thinks pathetically into his hands. He stifles his laughter. _She’s must think I’m so pathetic. She must think I’m a fucking loser._

“Sorry,” he forces out, gives an awkward chuckle. He smiles self-depreciatively. “Probably not the shit you came here to hear right?”

But Loki is staring at him, hard, her eyes brighter than a forest on fire, and all that previous awkwardness is gone. All that fiddling, twitching, looking at her feet – all that uncertainty that looked so foreign on her features is gone.

“Don’t.” She says fiercely. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like it’s nothing.”

And then she does something that surprises Fandral – she sits beside him on his bed, and grabs his hands in a tight grip.

“When I was a kid – “ she starts, eyes piercing into his, “I was the same. I thought the same way. I thought maybe if I did things a certain way, I thought maybe if I did them perfectly – maybe she would love me. I thought at least – maybe she would look at me. Maybe she would see me.”

Fandral stares at her, caught in her emerald gaze. Entranced.

“My mom was a fortune teller.” Here Loki gives an ironic smile and Fandral can’t help but laugh – not only at her smile, but at the very idea. Loki is such a rational person it’s hard to believe she grew up in such a hocus pocus environment. “She did all those things you know – tarot reading, palmistry, looking into a crystal ball. All bogus of course, but it didn’t matter because she was good at reading people. And she was good at lying.” And here Loki looks away, remembering. “You have no idea how long it took me to memorize all 78 of those tarot cards and their meanings, just to impress her. She’d take me to these carnivals and I’d be her little gypsy – read fortunes for a price. I was her best act. I brought her a lot of money – and it _still_ didn’t stop her from abandoning me.”

“So,” Fandral starts cautiously, “Odin was your father?”

Fandral says _‘was’_ because everyone knows Frigga is a widower. And that Odin dying was the whole reason they had moved to town.

Loki smiles blithely. “I suppose so, yeah.” She says, and Fandral wonders what that’s supposed to mean, because it sure as hell isn’t a yes or a no. “Either way,” she continues, “he hated me. He didn’t like what I reminded him of.”

And Fandral thinks that makes sense as well. Explains a lot of things.

Still –

“How did you stop?” He asks, his voice almost a murmur. And when Loki seems like she doesn’t understand, he adds – “How did you stop caring?”

And Loki softens – something Fandral’s never seen before, ever. Feels like seeing a brand new person, feels like there was someone inside her that was hidden all along. But it’s there – that softening. The way her green eyes go from burning emerald to a gentle clover green, like a wish.

He thinks suddenly of mountain laurel. Beautiful but deadly, except that Loki is the other way around. Deadly, but secretly beautiful. Tender, with a gentleness inside her softer than the fur on a new born colt.

“It’s because you feel bad, right?” She says. “It’s because you feel like it’s somehow your fault for not understanding. For not trying hard enough to help her, or yourself.” Loki stares at him, green eyes never wavering. “But let me tell you something, Fandral, about a mother’s love.” And her voice is firm when she says –

“You should never have to try. It should be a given that someone cares for you, and loves you, and is there for you. You’re not a bad person, Fandral. Just because you fuck like a rabbit – that doesn’t make you bad. You don’t promise them things. And you don’t slut shame. You don’t take advantage of them either. Clarke Wexler told me about the time she was drunk and you took her straight home. You might come across as a bit douchey sometimes,” and here Loki smiles to ease the sting of the insult, “but you have good intentions.” The smiles fades, and Loki looks at him seriously, pressing her forehead to his, so close Fandral can count all her freckles.

 _They’re like constellations_ , he thinks.

“You deserve to be loved.” She says, and her eyes are serious, a blooming field of green, and Fandral can’t help but think of a prairie in the spring, filled with a million flower all at once. She’s so beautiful, staring at him like that, so sincere, even more beautiful then when she goes to parties with her make up done, and looking drop dead gorgeous. More beautiful with her freckle covered face and cheesy t-shirt than any Victoria’s Secret model Fandral has ever seen.

“And the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can let her go.”

She runs a hand though his hair, gently, and it is so at odds with the her of everyday – that girl with the spine made of steel, and the wicked green eyes, and the cult like following – that Fandral can’t help but feel his heart beat quicker, too quick, like it’s about to beat right out of his chest.

Fandral fits his head into the crook of her shoulder and they lay like that on his bed – with her arms wrapped around him like a shield, her delicate wrists trapping all 197 pounds of him, and his broad shoulders, and his muscles broken in from football.

“How are you so good at this?” He whispers.

And for a while it seems like Loki isn’t going to answer, until she does.

“I know what it feels like.” She says quietly, and they spend the rest of the afternoon like that – wrapped in each other.

It’s not sexual, and they have all their clothes on, and he _knows_ Loki is only doing it because she feels bad – but it feels like the most intimate thing Fandral has ever done. He has always been the friend with the quick smile, and the quicker jokes, always one to defuse the tension and listen to someone else’s problems. People always ask him how he’s so happy all the time, but it’s mostly just a front, because he doesn’t like sharing his feelings, or looking vulnerable.

But with Loki it comes so easy – the baring of his soul.

They’re not doing anything but breathing the same air, heads pressed against each other, listening to their own heartbeats – but it feels like everything, all at once.

And sometimes that’s all it takes. To breathe the same air, in the same space –

It was reason enough to fall.

***

_Gypsy's, tramps, and thieves_   
_We'd hear it from the people of the town_   
_They'd call us gypsy's, tramps, and thieves_   
_But every night all the men would come around_   
_And lay their bodies down..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song - gypsys tramps and thieves by cher  
> and i messed up one of the lines on purpose


	8. lucky thirteen

The first time Volstagg really sees Thor is because of Loki.

For a long time Volstagg thinks he knows Thor. Doesn’t everybody, really? Looking into that honest cornflower blue gaze, you think - and not in an unkind way - that he’s simple. Maybe a little old fashioned. Definitely a gentleman.

Thor’s freshman year, of course, a lot of people think he’s a pretentious asshole. They mistake that humbleness for superiority, and the way he doesn’t talk to a lot of people as feeling that they’re below him. It doesn’t help that he comes straight from middle school already being a star.

Volstagg’s a sophomore then. Then captain Vince Davis elbows him in the ribs and points Thor out during tryouts.

“He came from Jackson.” Davis says, like it’s supposed to mean something. “Kicked up a lot of dust for middle school football. Threw a hail mary from seventy yards away right into one of his catcher’s hands. A game winning touchdown.”

Volstagg furrows his eyebrows. “Seventy yards?” He asks. It’s not a lot for the NFL, or college football, but it’s a lot for middle school football, and even high school football. Unheard of.

“Seventy yards.” Davis repeats firmly. “And he was only 13 at the time.”

Volstagg stares at the boy again – the boy his eyes had raked over because he seemed too simple. Inconsequential.

“We’ll have to take him down a peg or two.” Vince says grimly. “He probably has an ego the size of the sun.”

But Thor doesn’t. At first, a lot of people think that maybe he does, especially with his background, but then they realize it’s just the way Thor is, and that they’ve overcomplicated things.

Thor is exactly what he seems – simple, in the best way. Nice.

Soon, he’s friends with everyone on the team, because of his good humor, and then he’s captain. It seems an obvious evolution, considering. He’s tough with his team, but he’s also understanding. He runs laps until the last person is finished, always stays the longest in the weight room, and is always there to talk to JV about their problems. He’s everyone’s older brother and best friend, and he has people eating of his hands in a way that is completely different from the way Loki does.

_(volstagg wonders, often, how two siblings can be so different. seem like strangers)_

Thor’s freshman year he asks Volstagg for a favor.

He calls him right before Volstagg is about to head home. It’s raining.

“Hey man, what’s up?”

“Nothing much,” Thor replies, but there is something anxious in his voice. “My NHS meeting is gonna run late and I was wondering if you could do me a solid?”

“Anything, bro.” Volstagg replies easily.

“Well, I was supposed to pick up my sister from school,” Thor starts, and Volstagg immediately tenses. “But that’s not going to happen now, so I was wondering if you could pick her up instead?”

Volstagg’s first instinct is to say no. She’s not a cheerleader then – not for their high school at least – but Volstagg still doesn’t like her.

Still, Thor’s his friend, and Volstagg has his back, so he says yes reluctantly.

Easily enough, she goes to the same middle school as his siblings, so he knows where it is, but by now the storm is hitting hard, and Volstagg’s a little worried that she’s still outside waiting. When he gets there, of course, the whole place is mostly deserted – school ends at 3:30, and only kids like Loki with extracurriculars stay till five.

He’s a little late (it’s 5:15) and he’s worried that Loki’s left already, when he finally spots a small figure in the midst of the rain.

She’s wearing the typical Jackson uniform (white shirt with a pleated skirt) and Volstagg can already tell from all the way in his car that it’s completely soaked through – her black hair plastered to her face like a second skin. He squints a little and sees she’s not alone – there’s another figure behind her, a boy from the looks of it – and they’re fighting.

Both of their faces are scrunched up in anger and Loki has her arms crossed over each other. The boy yells something at her that Volstagg can’t quite catch but Loki only walks away – which proves to be a big mistake because the boy grabs her tightly by the wrist and then forces a kiss on her.

Volstagg gapes – can’t believe what he’s seeing with his own two eyes – and Loki reels back and slaps the boy hard across the face. Even the thunder can’t cover the sharp sound of it. The real trouble comes when the boy seems to raise his own hand in retaliation – causing Volstagg to snap out of his shock and give two hard honks.

The boy drops his hand in surprise. Loki turns around, and Volstagg rolls down his window.

“Hurry up, Odinson!” He yells, so that she can hear him above the rain. “Let’s get you home!”

And Loki picks up her sports bag, holding it over her head as if she wasn’t already soaked, and jogs to Volstagg’s jeep, getting into the backseat. Volstagg switches gears into drive but when he looks back in the rearview he can see the boy still standing there, watching them. He then flicks his eyes down to look at Loki, who is staring out the window, dripping onto his leather seats. With all the water her hot pink bra is see through, and Volstagg quickly looks away, cringing, wondering what it is about girls and neon bright brassieres.

“Who was that?” He asks when they pull up to a red light, trying for casual, but failing by the look on Loki’s face.

“Nobody.” She says quietly, but she doesn’t look at him, and Volstagg catches the lie easily.

He looks back in the rearview mirror and this time catches sight of her wrist, the one the boy grabbed, and sees it’s already blooming a nasty purple. His resolve hardens. No one should treat a girl like that. If it had been Eira, Volstagg would’ve broken that boy’s face in.

“Don’t lie to me, Loki.” He warns. “I saw how he grabbed you.”

And Loki quickly covers her wrist with a sleeve, looking up at him through dark eyelashes. Her green eyes are burning.

“I’m not lying.” She snaps, voice like acid. “He’s a fucking nobody who’s obsessed with me. It’s not a big deal. A lot of boys are like that.”

And Volstagg feels sick, because no, a lot of boys are _not_ like that, and if this is the kind of shit Loki is getting from boys that she’s already normalized it in her head, he’s really worried about how she’s treated at school. Cold girl that she is, it doesn’t mean she deserves to be treated that way.

“Loki,” he starts, feeling nauseous. “It _is_ a big deal. Have you told Thor about this because –“

And Loki whips her head to the side to lock eyes with Volstagg, no longer looking dispassionately out the window, something like panic on her face.

“ _No._ Volstagg, you can’t tell him. You don’t _want_ to tell him.”

He’s more than a little shocked by her fierce response. “Loki,” he starts, somewhat incredulous, “I _have_ to tell him. He’s your brother and he deserves to know.”

 _“How many times do I have to tell you he’s not my **fucking** brother?”_ Loki snarls, her cheeks flushed in anger, her eyes sharper than the edge of a knife. It’s the liveliest Volstagg has ever seen Loki, who is usually stone cold, with a blank look in her eyes, and a kind of discipline that makes her resistant to outbursts.

Loki must notice his shock, because she calms down, lets the blood leave her face, and then starts again in a more controlled voice –

“Look. Trust me, Volstagg, I’ve dealt with boys like this before,” and Loki waves a hand carelessly, as if the boy that had grabbed her was nothing but dust, something she could make disappear easily with a flick of her hand. “It’s not a big deal. Maybe you think because I’m skinny, and I have small wrists, and skin that bruises easily, that I need help from a guy,” she smiles tightly,” but I don’t. So really, you shouldn’t bother Thor with this. I can handle it.”

And throughout her little speech Loki’s voice doesn’t waver once, doesn’t tremble, is in fact, full of confidence with the things she says, which leads Volstagg to wonder, a bit nauseously, of how many times she’s had to handle the situation on her own if she can say all these things with such certainty.

“Look, Loki,” he starts cautiously, “I have no doubt you can handle this on your own, because you’re a tough girl-”

 _Certainly way tougher than my sister,_ Volstagg thinks privately.

“But that doesn’t mean you _should_ handle it on your own.” He continues. “If I was in Thor’s place, I would want to know what was happening with my sister. So, I’m sorry, but I’m going to tell him, and frankly, I don’t think this is something you should’ve hidden from him.”

And it seems like something in Loki deflates, goes from fiercely resistant to resigned, and she turns to face the window again with a huff.

“Whatever,” she mutters, and it’s very disconcerting to see how fast she changes moods, from angry and combative to passive and resigned.

“Do what you want,” she says quietly, and the rest of the car ride home is filled with a charged silence. Volstagg only feels like he can breathe again after he’s dropped her off.

The following few days he will run the conversation over carefully in his mind, and wonder what it is he said that made her upset – or rather – why the threat of telling Thor left her so upset. Is it because it would hurt her pride, asking the brother she so deeply hates for help? For a girl Loki _is_ strangely independent, so Volstagg figures this is it and doesn’t worry about it further.

Still, something about the way Loki acted makes him hesitate to tell Thor, and it’s probably a week later when he finally finds the courage to talk to him.

They’re eating lunch at Dirty Martin’s, an old school hamburger joint, celebrating the fact that finals are over, and Fandral has joined them. Of course, Fandral quickly strays from their table when he spots a leggy blonde by the jukebox, and with a smile sent her way quickly joins her.

Volstagg scoffs in disgust. “He really just can’t stop chasing ass, can he? Not even for a moment.”

And Thor just gives him that odd quirk of his lips, that isn’t really a smile, but more like a _‘what can you do?’_ kind of thing.

“As long as he doesn’t get anybody pregnant,” is all he says, and Volstagg can’t help but laugh.

“I swear that kid can’t get enough of girls. Can’t get enough of –“

And Volstagg stops abruptly, coughs awkwardly when he realizes what he was just about to say.

_Can’t get enough of your little sister, either. Stares at her like a lovesick puppy._

Somehow, he thinks that won’t go over well. Even if it is an innocent statement. Even if it is Fandral, who’s a pretty decent guy most of the time, and Thor’s best friend. The thing is, if there’s a guy interested in Loki, Thor never wants to hear about it, even if it’s the president of Mu Alpha Theta and Quizbowl, who’s captain of the swim team, whose parents went to Harvard, and who’s probably going to Harvard themselves.

_(the guy is frankie chang-baek. he asks loki to prom when she’s a sophomore and he’s a senior. suffice to say it doesn’t go well)_

Mention a guy who likes Loki, and Thor will tense up, and his jaw will tighten, and if that same guy is asking Thor for advice, or their blessing, Thor is most likely walking away, or throwing his fist in their face, depending on how forward they are.

That’s why Volstagg’s been so hesitant to bring up the boy he saw. He really doesn’t want to spoil Thor’s day, but what can he do? Thor’s her brother, and he’s obligated to tell him.

“Hey, man.” He starts uncomfortably. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Thor looks up from his chocolate malt, a question in his eyes. “What’s up?”

“Well, you remember that day I picked Loki up from school?”

And here Thor smiles, easy and grateful, one of his sincere smiles. “Yeah, man. Sorry, I forgot to thank you for that. You really did me a solid. I was worried she would have to walk home in that weather, and if she got hurt I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself. She’s sick as a dog as it is,” Thor says, his smile wavering a little, eyebrows pinched. “Been in bed all week with a fever so I’ve had to take care of her, you know, since mom’s working all-nighter’s.” Thor smiles weakly. “Loki scares me sometimes with how sick she gets.”

And this, exactly _this_ , is why he _really_ doesn’t want to say anything. If it’s his sister Thor gets worried with the littlest things. She so much as coughs in his direction and Thor’s afraid she’s going to die. Thor treats her like she’s spun glass. He’s an overprotective brother if Volstagg’s ever seen one.

Thor picks up on the way Volstagg awkwardly avoids his eyes. His smile disappears. There is something more serious in his eyes now.

“Volstagg?” He asks, voice cautious, like he doesn’t want to scare him off. “Did something happen?”

From here, Volstagg can hear the throaty chuckle of the leggy blonde. Fandral and her must be hitting it off. Volstagg feels a slight tug of envy in the pit of his stomach.

 _If only I was in his place_ , he thinks wistfully. _And not having this God-awful conversation_.

Volstagg sighs. He locks eyes with Thor, who has anxiousness written all over his face.

“Yeah man, something did happen. Something serious.”

It’s like all the air has been sucked straight out of the room. No one else exists anymore. Thor pins him with a hard gaze.

“How serious?”

Thor is looking at him so intently that Volstagg can’t help but look down at his hands. He taps his fingers against the hardwood nervously, which he never does. But Thor makes him nervous. Thor, who is a full year younger than him, who is half his weight, who’s one of his best friends – puts him on edge.

Volstagg runs a rough hand down his face.

“Look man, I didn’t know what was happening at first. I thought he was her boyfriend, or something –“ and Volstagg doesn’t miss the way Thor tenses up, the way his jaw tightens, the darkness that floods his usually baby blue eyes. “I thought they we’re having a lover’s quarrel, or whatever. But then it became pretty obvious,” and here Volstagg cringes, doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to trigger Thor this way, but it’s the truth –

“-when the kid forced himself on her.”

Volstagg stares intently out the window. He doesn’t want to look at Thor’s face. Doesn’t want to see the storm brewing there.

Thor’s voice, however, is very tight when he says

“Forced himself how?”

“Well, he grabbed her –“ Thor’s fists clench, “and then he tried to-“ _oh god, he is not going to like this_ , “he tried to force his tongue down her throat.” Volstagg finishes lamely.

For a second, nothing happens. Everything seems so - very dangerously - still.

And then Thor throws his basket of fries off the table with a smack of his hand and yells _“Fuck!” -_ causing Volstagg to jump at least a foot in the air.

All of Dirty Martin’s turns to stop and stare. The waitress sends them a dirty look. From the jukebox, Fandral raises an eyebrow.

Thor raises his head. There’s something ugly brewing on his face that Volstagg’s never seen before.

“What did he look like?” He asks keenly, and all of a sudden Volstagg doesn’t want to tell him. Fears more for that boy than he did for Loki.

“I don’t remember, man,” he says uselessly, rambling, “it was raining and I didn’t get a good look-“

“Did he have brown hair? Grey eyes?” Thor probes intently, and something must show on Volstagg’s face because he curses.

“I told her,” Thor continues darkly. “I told her she shouldn’t mess with that kid. But she thought it was a game. She took it as a dare.” Thor laughs cruelly. “She _lives_ to fucking annoy me. I told her he was trash, and he went through girls like tissue paper, but she wouldn’t listen. Took it as a challenge. So of course, because it’s Loki, she had wrap him around her fucking finger, and then ghost him, _and now he’s fucking obsessed with her.”_ Thor looks up at him, all of a sudden, as if just remembering that he’s still there. His eyes are like lightning, pinning Volstagg in place. “He’d send all these creepy love poems and leave them in our mailbox. Sometimes he would follow her home from school. I caught him twice outside of our house in the middle of the night, throwing rocks at Loki’s window. She’s fucking **fourteen**. _What the fuck is his problem?_ ” Thor snarls, lost in his anger again, and Volstagg doesn’t think it’s a good time to mention that

_He’s fourteen too, though._

“She told me he stopped. She told me she reported him,” and this time there is an anguished look on Thor’s face, like something inside of him is hurting, but it’s quickly replaced by anger again. He bangs his fist on the table, and Volstagg’s coke jumps.

 _“Motherfucker!”_ he yells again, and this time he’s grabbing his varsity jacket, getting ready to stand up and leave.

Volstagg’s alarmed. “Where are you going?”

Thor turns to look at him in a fury. “Where do you think I’m going, Volstagg? You think I’m just gonna let my little sister get attacked by that _creep?_ ” When Volstagg doesn’t say anything, Thor continues, his storm blue gaze locked on Volstagg’s. “And you know what else, Volstagg?” Thor spits, his tongue a whip. “I’m pissed at you too. _What were you thinking telling me this a week after it happened?”_

Thor’s eyes are electric. He slam his fists on the table again when Volstagg doesn’t respond, presses his forehead to Volstagg’s, a snarl on his lips. _“Answer me!”_

Volstagg flinches back, hard, at the rage in Thor’s voice.

He thinks suddenly, of Loki’s words.

_Trust me. You don’t **want** to tell him._

Thor leans back, seems almost to reign himself in.

“You’re one of my best friends, Volstagg.” He says with overly bright eyes, “but I swear to God if you weren’t – I would beat the shit out of you right now.”

And without another word Thor is turning on his heel and walking out of Dirty Martin’s, ignoring the angry waitress calling after him, french fries spilled all over the floor besides their booth.

Fandral jogs over from where he was talking with the leggy blonde. He casts a worried glance at Thor’s retreating back.

“What the fuck happened, man?” He asks, and Volstagg can only hang his head in his hands.

“I think I messed up, Fandral. I think I messed up _really_ fucking bad.”

XXX

Volstagg waits. He waits days. He waits weeks. He waits for a headline in the news like

 _‘Middle Schooler Found Dead in Alleyway – Motive Unknown,’_ or _‘Vicious Attack on Fourteen Year Old Boy Who Had Promising Future – No Current Suspects in Custody.’_

He waits and he waits but nothing happens. No deaths are reported of a fourteen year old kid from Jackson middle school. Volstagg feels himself settle a little. But it doesn’t stop him from running that day over and over in his mind, wondering why Thor was upset, trying to analyze every little thing that happened.

It was like realizing your best friend was a stranger.

Volstagg had never seen Thor get angry a day in his life. Not even in the beginning of the season, when everyone kind of hated him, and treated him like shit, and Captain Davis worked him the hardest out of all the freshman – not even then did Thor lash out, or even complain. And he never gave up on coming to practice, with that serious, somber face of his, always earnestly ready to work hard.

Even that time when he rejected Celeste Stevens, and everybody bothered him about it, because she was a grade above him, hot as hell, and they were all kind of jealous she had looked his way instead of theirs – even then, when everybody was calling him a homo and a fag out of spite – he never once threw a fist, or cursed, or got all upset.

Or all those times when Captain Davis would call him out for something unnecessary, or critique him extra harshly for a play he’d done perfectly well on, or make him run extra laps, or extra suicides – even then he never got upset, took as it a challenge even, working harder than everybody else, and becoming stronger because of it.

Thor was unmovable. He was the anchor in a storm. He was disciplined, rarely got into a fight, avoided drama, didn’t talk back, and that was something really rare for a freshman.

Freshman boys were cocky. They talked a lot of shit, but it was just that – talk. They were fresh out of puberty and filled to the brim with testosterone and they picked fights if they thought someone so much as looked at them the wrong way. They were a unruly bunch. They thought they were God’s gift to the world, with hands made of gold, able to catch anything. Volstagg and the other varsity players always enjoyed putting them back in their place.

But Volstagg never had to with Thor. Thor, who was certain of his place in the world, and on the team, and had a maturity that was rare for his age. He never had to be told something twice.

Volstagg respected that.

But whatever happened that day at Dirty Martin’s felt like entering the twilight zone. Thor’s anger had been a living, breathing thing, complete with teeth and murderous intent. The way he knocked the basket of fries off the table like he wanted to break something – Volstagg was only surprised he didn’t throw his malt at the wall as well.

It felt like opening his eyes.

Before, maybe he’d thought Thor was a mountain, in the way that a mountain is unmovable, and rooted firmly to the ground. Now he remembers that mountains have treacherous ridges and bluffs, with precipices so sharp and steep you can hurt yourself, or even worse plunge to your death.

Mountains are a beautiful part of nature, yes, but what Volstagg had forgotten is that they’re dangerous too.

XXX

Volstagg finds out what happened a couple days later during a family dinner.

Eira is running her mouth like always and Volstagg is tuning her out, more focused on his meatloaf, when she says something that catches his attention.

“…in the hospital!” She cries out, a dramatic look of despair on her face.

Volstagg looks up from his meatloaf. His ear twitches.

“Who’s in the hospital?”

Eira seems annoyed for a second, before falling back into her look of deep despair.

“Svad Becher,” she says dramatically, “which you would’ve _known_ if you had listened to me the first time.”

“Who’s that?” He asks stupidly.

Eira gives him a scandalized look. “Only the most popular boy in all of the eighth grade! He’s captain of the football team, super funny, _superrr_ cute, with brown hair and the most _beautiful_ grey eyes,” she sighs dreamily –

 _That doesn’t mean anything_ , Volstagg thinks, his meatloaf ash in his mouth, tapping his fingers restlessly _. There’s a lot of people with grey eyes._

Eira stops abruptly, and her face sours. “Too bad he’s obsessed with Loki Odinson.”

Volstagg’s heart drops.

Eira sighs. “I _swear_ I have _no_ idea what he sees in her. Just because she’s a cheerleader,” and Eira says the word like it’s something dirty or degrading. “It’s so cliché. Everyone knows cheerleaders don’t have a single original thought in their body.” She sneers, and Volstagg tries to calm his heartbeat, tries to act casual, like he doesn’t really care what happened.

“How did he end up in the hospital?”

Eira looks at him suspiciously. “Why do you care? You _never_ care about what I have to say.”

Volstagg scowls. “I’m just curious, _god_.”

And Eira being Eira, never missing a chance to gossip, leans forward, her eyes nifty, and says

“Well _I_ heard he got attacked after school coming home from practice. He’s rich, and good looking, and you know how most people secretly hate popular people anyway.” Eira shrugs, then her eyes go sly again. “Apparently whoever did it broke his jaw. They had to screw _thirteen_ metal plates to put it back together again.”

Eira’s eyes water remembering and she wails dramatically. “Poor Svad!” She cries. “It’s such a tragedy! I think I have PTSD!”

And Volstagg has to excuse himself because he suddenly feels sick, feels like he’s going to throw up, feels like what happened is all his fault.

He locks himself in the bathroom and puts both hands down on the sink, relishing the feeling of the cool porcelain, trying to calm himself down.

_Why did I tell him why did I tell him why the **FUCK** did I tell him? I would’ve never had said anything if I knew it was going to be this bad, if I knew-_

And Volstagg suddenly has a vision of Loki, of her wraith like face in his rearview, her bright green eyes like a warning, her skin as pale as a ghost, black hair spilling over her shoulders like wet ink, and Volstagg thinks –

I should’ve listened to her.

_But it’s too late now, isn’t it?_

And Volstagg will never look at Thor the same way again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we r pretty close to the end  
> thoughts?


	9. interlude

thor's weird, you know?

a lot of people think he's gay but that’s because they're stupid and immature. lana reed said that after he rejected her for the umpteenth time. a lot of guys say it as well cuz they're pissed pretty girls flock all over him and he acts like he doesnt notice.

girls that other boys would die for. girls that are hot but too extra and too much work but at the sight of thor are offering their pussies and their hearts - two for one sale, half price, you name it - they're so easy when thor comes around.

they never act easy around them.

so yeah, a lot of boys are jealous of thor. hate that he seems to act like he's above that, like those girls that their dicks are dying for are just not enough for him. so a lot of guys say shit and talk about him maybe being a fag and make up shit like thor was watching their two centimeter dicks bounce ( _as if a two centimeter dick even has the ability to bounce, its so fucking small_ ) and watching their asses when they bent over.

but whatever. insecure guys are like that.

the truth is, thor is just old. thor is this forty year old man in a eighteen year old body. yeah he smiles easy, but he's also as quick to frown, to scrunch his eyebrows, to say _what you said wasn't polite,_ and _maybe you should sorry,_ and _hey why dont you pick on someone your own size?_

girls will flock to him after a game, the dancers, the baton twirlers, the cheerleaders (them), the girls on the stands - all of them -

_after a winning touchdown that he threw, or after he feint left and went right and makes it past the ten yard line and gets another down because nobody else was open_

they'll flock to him, storm the field, they'll flash whatever they can in the most innocent way they can, lean over and show their tits, whisper with whiskey breath that what he did was amazing, and _omigod hes def, for sure, gonna get recruited_ , and _i have a lace thong underneath this skirt_ and _do you want to go to the janitors closet?_

and thor will look at them (but not really) and he will smile (but not really) and he will tactfully avoid looking at any of their cleavage and their lace panties and all the other frills of their body and kind of gently, smoothly, sneakily shuck them over to the other players, his friend fandral, or volstagg, or the poor jv freshman who is still a virgin, and not really see any of them at all.

he won't fuck any of them.

_(or if he does, its not one of those girls, not the loud ones, not the desperate, aching-for-his-cock ones; and he definitely wont talk about it later, wont crow about like the other boys do, will keep it close to his chest like it never happened)_

and when the night comes, and all those girls are even more drunk off their asses at a party celebrating his win, they will send him nudes, like they always do

_at least one does, every time,_

and thor won't save any of them, won't even open them, because he already knows what to expect, and he isnt interested, isnt ever interested in any of them, not even the one that almost got recruited by cindy crawford, and is rumored to have had a fling with dave franco.

thor is never a sexual being in sigyn's mind

until the day he is.


	10. jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jealousy - the state of being fiercely protective or vigilant of one's rights or possessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its christmas where i am so this is my christmas gift to yall :)

Jane Foster.

Only two words, but they change everything. When Jane Foster moves to town Sigyn’s junior year, nothing will ever be the same.

_(sigyn will forever hate jane foster for this)_

XXX

“Did you hear? Thor Odinson asked Jane Foster on a coffee date.”

Clarke Wexler says this with her hands wrapped around a venti pumpkin spice frappuccino, leaning over it like a witch over her cauldron. Her bedazzled star gold acrylics send light spilling everywhere, a dagger straight through Sigyn’s eyes. She squints suspiciously.

“Bullshit.” Says Lana Reed, more than a little bitter. “Everyone knows Odinson is gay.”

Wexler smiles, amused. “Just because he never responded to the nude you snapped him doesn’t mean he’s gay, Lana.”

Lana’s mouth turns down at the corners. “Whatever,” she huffs, throwing back her hair. “I doubt it’s even true.”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” continues Wexler, insistent. “They talk a lot you know. He’s always her lab partner in Anatomy.” Wexler gives Lana a dirty smile. “He asked her one day after class.” Then she shrugs. “It’s cute I guess.”

But what she really means, what they’re all thinking is –

_What the fuck is so special about Jane Foster?_

Loki sits down at the table and they all jump. She notices and raises a dark eyebrow.

“What?”

And all of a sudden Sigyn has this bad feeling, wants to slap a hand across Clarke Wexler’s mouth, wants her to say nothing ever again, remembers

_the trembling in loki’s leg, the broken staccato of her heart, the blood in her face, so much blood, like the color of a heart in somebody else’s hands, and the cherry on her wrists, and thor’s red handprints all over her_

“Did you know your brother’s into that new girl Jane Foster?”

It’s strange, what Loki does. Sigyn doesn’t think she’s ever seen it before. First of all, she doesn’t even bother to correct Clarke Wexler that Thor is not, in fact, her brother. Which is something she always does.

Instead, she seems to stiffen, like an artic breeze has passed, her features frozen in place. Then she twitches, barely noticeably, except that Loki never twitches so it’s noticeable on her, before relaxing once again, that permanent indifference on her face.

“It’s probably not a big thing.” Loki replies passively. “Thor’s interest rarely holds for long.”

But when she and Sigyn are walking to their next class, Loki says her name again, almost to herself.

“Jane Foster,” she muses, almost as if she were tasting it, almost as if she could sink her teeth into it and tear it apart.

XXX

The news spreads pretty quickly after that.

Jane and Thor are always talking together in class. Jane and Thor sit together at lunch. Jane and Thor hang out after school. They make each other laugh. They’re seen together at Dirty Martin’s. They shared a malt. Thor met Jane’s parents and vice versa.

The rumors start to blow out of proportion. No one really knows what’s the truth and what’s a lie. Loki can only deny the last one.

Her head is bowed over her phone when she does, almost as if she doesn’t care.

“Foster has never been to our house.” She answers in response to a desperate Lana. “And she’s never met Frigga as far as I know.” She adds carelessly, never looking up once.

“If it was someone like Fandral nobody would care.” Sigyn says to Nikki one day during practice when it’s just the two of them. “But since Thor has never shown interest in a girl before everybody’s going batshit crazy with the rumors.”

“Never shown interest in a girl other than his sister, you mean.” Nikki says with a sly smile.

Sigyn doesn’t like that. Something in her stomach twists unpleasantly.

“You’re fucking disgusting, Cossentino.” Sigyn spits, lips turned down at the corners.

Nikki shrugs, as if the insult has slid right off her, but there is something mean in her eyes when she says

“You weren’t there, Sissy. You didn’t see how he stormed out of that house. You didn’t see how he picked her up out of my car like she was the most precious thing in the universe. It was fucking weird.”

Sigyn stretches her leg out and up into an arabesque, and holds it. After a tense moment of silence she says

“I think it’s good if the rumors are true. I think it’s good if Thor has finally found a girl he likes. Maybe now people will stop calling him a fag and talking shit behind his back.” She says ferociously, but what she really means is

_maybe now thor will stop looking at loki like she’s his whole world_

XXX

When Sigyn finds out Loki has joined the PNC – Physics Nucleus Club – her heart drops.

Jane Foster is president of the PNC.

The rest of the girls on the squad laugh, think Loki is secretly a nerd (which in reality she is), and can’t really compute with the fact that she is a cheerleader who likes physics (which she doesn’t).

Only Sigyn sees the real reason she joined.

“What the fuck are you thinking, Loki?” Sigyn hisses one day after practice, pulling her aside so that they’re alone.

Loki has her arms crossed over each other, and gives Sigyn an unimpressed look. Her eyes are a cool green.

“I just wanted to see what she’s like.” And then she adds, as if Sigyn didn’t already know – “Jane, that is.”

“Why?” Sigyn snaps. “Who cares? She’s a fucking nobody.”

And it’s true. Sigyn has seen little Jane Foster before – all unimpressive five feet of her. She would make a perfect flyer with her height, but you can see with one little look in her dull brown eyes that she would never have what it takes – would never have that fearlessness, that strong will, that faith that defies gravity. Little Jane Foster has not a single muscle in her body. She is soft, in the worst way possible, with plain brown hair, and plain brown eyes, and a face that could disappear into a wall.

There is nothing remarkable about Jane Foster.

Loki should know this. Instead she says, with a look Sigyn has never seen before

“Not to Thor.”

XXX

Everything comes to head the night of Uriah Alcazar’s party.

There are two parties that night. One at Uriah’s and one at Zach Miller’s house. Clarke Wexler is fucking someone on the football team and he tells her they’re going to Miller’s house, so Loki and Sigyn go to Alcazar’s.

“I just don’t get it.” Sigyn tells her, upset. “You’re sixteen years old, Lo. You shouldn’t have to hide from your brot- _from Thor_ -that you’re going to parties. He’s not your dad.”

But Loki just shrugs, pulls at a loose string on her sleeve, and doesn’t look at Sigyn when she says

“It’s just how it is, Sissy. If we went to Miller’s he’d be watching me like a hawk. Forget drinking I wouldn’t be able to have _fun_.”

So they go to Alcazar’s, and Loki wears something tight and glittery and green, and her lips are a deep red as if begging you to kiss her, and nobody can keep their eyes off her.

_(sigyn tries. It’s impossible)_

Loki’s different. Usually, when they come to parties, Loki only comes to have fun, and dance, and drink a little, and never to hook up. She has this thing about her she can switch on and off, and usually it’s switched off – she’s cold and indifferent, and doesn’t smile at anybody unless they’re a friend, and doesn’t smile at boys especially. But tonight she is turned all the way on, something glittery and incandescent in the dark of Alcazar’s living room, shining brightly, and smiling at everybody, dark promise in her eyes.

And she’s drunk. Like super drunk.

“Did you notice that Volstagg showed up?” Sigyn tells her curiously. “I haven’t seen him since he graduated. He came to the wrong party if he’s looking for Thor.”

And Sigyn hasn’t noticed but Loki has been wobbling back and forth, and practically dives into Sigyn’s arms when she trips on the rug.

Loki laughs into Sigyn’s neck and Sigyn’s heart tightens, her pulse jumping. Loki’s breath smells like spicy peppermint.

“What have you been drinking?” Sigyn asks suspiciously, and Loki says

“What do you think he sees in her?”

Sigyn feels like she’s been dumped in a bucket of cold water.

“What?”

This time when Loki replies her voice is more subdued. Sigyn can feel her swallow.

“I meant – I meant that girl. Jane. Jane Foster.”

As if Sigyn didn’t already know. As if Sigyn didn’t know she was talking about her brother.

Sigyn is silent for too long, can’t think of the words to say, can’t work her mind around what Loki just said, and it must show because Loki quickly backtracks.

She pushes herself off of Sigyn and grins, too wide, and with too much teeth. She flicks Sigyn on the forehead.

“Gosh, so serious.” Loki teases. “It was just a joke, Sissy.”

But it didn’t feel like a joke at all, and Sigyn is about to say so, when Loki grabs her by the hand and pulls.

“Look it’s Volstagg!” She shouts. “I haven’t seen him in for- _everrrr_. Let’s go say hi.”

Volstagg is by the staircase, a beer in his hand, and Sigyn realizes that he isn’t alone, like she originally thought, but with Fandral, both of them laughing over some inside joke.

“Volstagg!” Loki calls out, waving her hand in the air. She smiles something wicked, her canines on display. “Long time no see.”

Volstagg looks at her warily, notices her swaying, then looks at Sigyn.

“What’s up with Odinson?”

Sigyn holds Loki closer, defensive. “She can’t handle her liquor well.”

Volstagg snorts, derisive. “That’s obvious.”

Fandral turns a worried look on Loki.

“Loki, does Thor know you’re here?”

“Fandral!” Loki gushes, pushing herself out of Sigyn’s grasp to twist her arms around Fandral’s neck.

Fandral wobbles backwards for a second with the force of her leap, before steadying himself, his hands hovering over her body as if he doesn’t know whether to touch her or not, as if he’d never seen a girl before.

Sigyn almost laughs at the scene and the complete bewilderment on Fandral’s face.

“You smell so good,” Loki purrs, nuzzling his neck, and Fandral’s ears turn pink as he casts his gaze helplessly at Sigyn and Volstagg.

Fandral, who has a different girl on his arm everyday at school, Fandral, who flirts with the Mrs. Daniels the history teacher and Mrs. Williams the nurse and Ms. Haverford the girls cross country coach, Fandral, who fucks other girls like crazy and probably knows a woman’s anatomy inside and out -

_(lovesick fool, Sigyn thinks secretly, bitterly)_

Volstagg’s face hardens as he grabs at Loki roughly, tearing her off of Fandral. Sigyn is immediately in defensive mode, flashing her teeth, pushing into Volstagg –

 _“What the fuck, Ludson?”_ She snarls as she takes Loki from him.

Volstagg doesn’t even flinch, his face still set in stone. Doesn’t even look at her when he says

“You,” facing Loki, the word out of his mouth like an accusation, “-you really don’t think I know what you’re doing?” There’s an angry disbelief in his tone. “I heard about Jane Foster,” he continues, his voice like steel, “and honestly, good for Thor.”

It’s the worst thing he could possibly say.

A million emotions fall across Loki’s face at once, a majority of which Sigyn doesn’t recognize, but all of them ugly, and bleeding, like something’s been torn out of her, and in an instant she goes from wobbly and smashed to wild and mean.

She lunges at Volstagg, her fingers outstretched like she wants to tear his eyes out, and Volstagg stares at her putrid and nasty, waiting, expectant, something in him ready to spring, but Sigyn grabs a hold of Loki before it can.

She bucks in Sigyn’s grip, trying to tear her way out, and if it were anybody else Loki would be out by now, but Sigyn is used to her wildness, has strengthened herself against the force of Loki’s anger.

 _“Fucker.”_ She spits out, the word as sharp as a broken glass, the kind you step on and bleed all over. “You always hated me.”

And Volstagg leans forward, enough so Fandral can’t hear, but Sigyn can, because she’s holding Loki, and says

“If you think you can use Fandral, because he would tear his heart from his chest in an instant if you just asked, because he rolls over at every small kindness you give him, because he falls part at every coy look you throw his way – if you think you can use him, to get over Thor, or get his attention, or get him angry – forget about it. I won’t let you. And you’re seriously fucked up for thinking it.”

And something in Loki falters at his words, goes from angry to unsure, hesitant even, as she slurs

“But I wassh-wasn’t thinking that. Not at all, not even –“

But Loki has this strange look on her face, like maybe realizing she was, and Sigyn has a sick feeling in her chest, like yes, probably, she was.

Either way, Volstagg doesn’t care what she has to say, and he walks past them with Fandral trailing behind.

The rest of the night goes the same way.

Loki smiles at everybody, something wicked in her eyes, pulling people like strings, then cutting them off just as quick, and Sigyn has this anxious, gnawing feeling in her stomach the whole time, because she knows Loki is not okay, and that this isn’t how she usually acts, and she feels like something is going to go terribly wrong.

And then Sigyn loses Loki in the crowd, and she freaks out for a second, because a drunk Loki is a vulnerable Loki, especially with the way she’s been acting, but she doesn’t have to worry for long because she finds her once again.

On top of the dining room table.

There’s a song blasting through the speakers, something dirty and slow, and Loki rolls her hips to it, a temptress smile on her face, her hands sliding up her body, and if people were talking before, lost in their conversations with each other, they’re not doing it now - or at least now it’s hushed, and they’re all lost in the dip of Loki’s waist, and her long legs, and her green eyes that promise wicked, wicked things.

_Baby grind on me  
Relax your mind take your time on me_

And Loki bends over, her hair whipping forwards, as she trails a hand over one outstretched leg, hitching her already short dress higher, heavenward, as the boys whistle their appreciation.

_Let me get deeper shorty ride on me_

And now Loki is teasing, grinning slyly, sliding one delicate spaghetti strap of her dress to the side, and the boys are howling, howling for more

_Girlfriend I never go raw  
I rip off panties and I pop off bras_

Because there is nothing under that dress, absolutely nothing besides Loki’s satin black panties, and the boys can tell, and the boys are wild for it, and she’s

_Bustin' ya brain  
What's my name  
What's my name  
What's my name_

And the boys are screaming her name, begging really, groaning-

“Loki, baby, come here.”

“Honey bend over one more time.”

“Let me touch you, let me treat you right.”

“You need a man, mamas, to start loving you right.”

But Loki just laughs as they beg with lust filled eyes, push even closer to the living room table, all crowded together like sardines in a can, all reaching for her, calling her name as she grinds, and tangles fingers through her hair, and drops low, popping right up again before they can touch her, calling her name like she’s God, or the Devil, and they’re ready to fall into sin

_Baby girl five five brown eyes with the thick lips_   
_Thick thighs with the slim hips_   
_Sugar honey ice-t_

And even Sigyn can do nothing but stare, her mouth dry as Loki rolls her hips and bats her eyes, every little move rucking her dress up even higher, exposing moon pale thighs

**PING!**

Sigyn startles at the vibration in her pocket, reaching blindly for her phone. When she reads the message on the lock screen her heart drops.

_Miller’s party busted by the cops. Thor ETA to Alcanzar’s – 10 min_

The message was sent 15 minutes ago.

_(shitty fucking wifi)_

Sigyn is trying desperately to get to the table when she sees him come through the door. Alcanzar booms his greeting, and Sigyn can see Thor and some other guys come in, smiles on their face, Thor laughing at something Uriah says, and Sigyn knows its inevitable. He’s going to see.

It’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

Thor, walking towards the living room.

Thor, laughing.

Thor, pausing by the door way, staring at the people crowded by the table curiously.

Thor, standing still, his friends pushing past him.

Thor, not smiling anymore.

Sigyn can’t see his eyes, because the dark of the hall covers them, but she can see the way his jaw locks; see his lips, which pull into a tight, angry line; and when a boy trails his hand down Loki’s leg it’s the final straw – Thor rushes forward.

He pushes past the sea of boys with a rough hand, pushing the way only he can – from years of football and knocking into practice dummies twice his weight, pushes these boys too like they’re dummies on the field, even less than dummies, even less than synthetic leather and sandbags, even less than human.

Maybe in his eyes they are.

He grabs the hand on Loki’s thigh and twists it backwards, a sharp cry of pain ringing out clear as day in the room, cutting through Pretty Rick’s gravelly voice, and the pop that follows is unmistakable.

The sound of bone cracking.

Thor shoves the pathetic boy on his ass and reaches for Loki, a storm in his eyes. When he speaks, it’s tightly controlled.

“Loki come down from there.”

Loki pretends she doesn’t hear anything, sends a smile to another boy in the crowd, and slides her other strap down as well, exposing the top of one moon pale breast, about the drop the whole thing to her feet when Thor snarls and pushes himself up on the table, covers her with his letterman.

The crowd boos and Loki sneers, tries to get her arm out of Thor’s grasp but it’s impossible.

 _“Let me go.”_ She snarls, and Thor laughs something mean, his eyes nasty when he says

“If you think I’m gonna let you act like a whore you’re wrong.”

And there is something like hurt flashing in the shards of Loki’s emerald eyes, before it’s quickly replaced by anger, and she throws her hand forward, trying to slap him across the face, but she’s drunk, and he’s sober, and stronger, and weighs sixty more pounds and catches her hand easily.

Sigyn rushes forward as well, indignant, but before Sigyn can give him a piece of her mind Thor catches sight of her first, and his eyes harden.

“You.” He points a finger in her direction, his other hand still locked on Loki’s. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He spits, words like a dagger, and Sigyn is caught off guard.

“Me?” She asks uselessly.

“I though you were her friend.” He says, sounding disgusted. “I thought you took care of her. But instead you ply her with alcohol and let a million fucking guys paw at her while tries to strip to her underwear. Seriously – _what the fuck is wrong with you?”_

And Sigyn’s chest feels too tight, she feels her throat burning at Thor’s accusations, tears coming to her eyes, sees Loki behind him swaying, her green eyes dazed, flushed with alcohol, feels sick, feels guilty, feels angry at Thor for calling her a shit friend, because what would he know, how would he know what Sigyn feels, seriously, really, and

“What the fuck is wrong with _you?_ ” She manages to spit out, voice trembling. “She’s your sister, not your _fucking_ girlfriend.”

And it’s the wrong thing to say, because there’s a flash of something bright and ugly in Thor’s eyes, something like lighting, and he pushes forward, pushing into her face, and his lips turn down into the ugliest sneer, teeth flashing like a warning, sharper than the edge of a knife, and says

“Shut up. **_Shut the fuck up.”_**

He doesn’t raise his hand. Doesn’t raise a single fist. But the way he says it, all that anger directed at her – that tangible, living, breathing violence in his words –

It’s the scariest thing Sigyn has ever fucking seen.

She thinks, suddenly, of something he said years ago.

_You’re strong. Cradling her like that. Gentle._

She thinks of his easy smile then, the way he looked at her so soft.

She knows it will forever be replaced by the image of his canines glinting menacingly in the light.


	11. love bites

_When you make love, do you look in your mirror?  
Who do you think of?  
Does he look like me?_

Thor takes Loki upstairs.

When they still haven’t come down after 15 minutes, Sigyn starts to worry. She thinks of how Thor covers Loki with the bulk of his body, thinks of his arms thicker than Sigyn’s thighs, thinks how with one swing of his fist he could pop Loki’s collarbone like a button.

She goes upstairs.

Luckily, their door is slightly open, and Sigyn is able to peek in. Loki looks more sober, her arms crossed over each other, an angry look on her face, sitting on the bed and still wearing Thor’s letterman.

Thor on the other hand is standing, pacing back and forth, obviously upset.

“Seriously – what the fuck were you thinking, Loki?” He says, sounding pained, running a rough hand through his hair. “Do you have any idea of what those guys could’ve done to you? You’re a tiny little thing, Lolo, I _bench_ more than your weight, any one of those guys could’ve thrown you across their shoulder and done God knows what!” He turns, suddenly, to shake Loki by the shoulders. “ _Do. You. Understand. That. LOKI?”_ He says, enunciating every word. “Is that getting through your thick, _stupid_ head!”

Loki smacks his hands off, annoyed. “Seriously, what kind of scenarios are you dreaming up in your brain, Thor?” She snaps. “You sound fucking psycho. No one would be stupid enough to do that.”

“Really?” Thor says sarcastically. “No one? Do you see how you’re dressed right now, Loki? It’s like an invitation. It’s not even a dress – it’s a scrap of cloth.”

 _Thor? Slut shaming?_ Sigyn thinks, surprised. How she’s still surprised is a mystery. Thor just showed her how judgmental he can be downstairs when he tore her apart for being a shit friend.

“Oh so now it’s about my dress, huh?” Loki snarls. “Don’t tell me – I look like a cheap hooker?”

Thor flinches at the word, tries to back track, a distressed look on his face.

“Loki, you know I didn’t mean that. I just don’t think it’s appropriate. You’re sixteen, Loki, you’re still a kid – you’re too young to be trying to attract that kind of attention.”

“I’m not a _fucking_ child, Thor!” Loki yells, a bright spot of color on her cheeks, indignant anger in her eyes. And then, smugly –

“I’m not even a virgin, asshole.”

It’s like the sun disappearing in a storm.

Thor’s face goes dark. He doesn't speak for a long while and the air is so tense Sigyn can hardly breathe. His jaw twitches. There’s something dangerous in his voice when he asks

“Who was it?”

It sounds like less of a question and more of a warning.

_(sigyn has a bad feeling. thor, when he opens his mouth, is like looking down the barrel of a shotgun)_

The smugness is wiped right off Loki’s face, and she lowers her eyes, fidgeting. She spins on her heel, turning her back on Thor, and murmurs quietly

“I can’t say.”

“Oh, no.” Thor says darkly, his voice like gravel. “You can’t _do_ that, Loki. You can’t hang something like that over me and then tell me to forget about it.” His eyes flash. “If you don’t tell me that fucker’s name I swear I’m gonna go downstairs right now and beat the _shit_ out of every guy I see until I get one."

 _Crazy,_ Sigyn thinks, bewildered. She feels dazed. Like she’s fallen down the rabbit hole and now she’s in a world that’s entirely upside down. _He’s completely crazy._

Loki turns around in a flash, her eyes like a storm.

“You’re fucking crazy, Thor! You’re a fucking _psycho_! You call me your sister, right? Oh, you _love_ to call me your fucking sister,” she spits the word likes its an insult, degrades it, makes it sound like a lie. “But do you _SINCERELY_ think that anyone else treats their sisters this way? HUH?! _Do you, Thor?!”_

“You drive me fucking crazy, Loki!” Thor yells back in reply, his blue eyes electric, seem to be throwing sparks everywhere, sizzling the already tense air, making it even more charged. He grabs Loki roughly by the arm.

“You tell me, Loki,” he says, his voice a low rumble, like distant thunder. His eyes are as hard as steel. “You tell me **_now_**.”

Thor’s eyes are locked on hers, fierce, intent, like you couldn’t pull him off her if you tried. Their faces are centimeters apart from each other, and Sigyn is scared, bone deep scared, because it looks like they would tear each other apart if they could.

Loki is looking in every direction but his, avoiding eye contact, until Thor grabs her by the jaw roughly.

_“Tell me Loki.”_

And Loki breaks down. Loki’s lip is trembling. Her eyes are wet, and a lone tear trails down the elegant slope of her cheekbone.

“You already know though, don’t you, Thor?” She says through gritted teeth. “You already know that I’m a virgin, and that I’m a fucking virgin because I’ve been in love with you since I was ten, and that I’ve been waiting for you ever since.” Loki’s voice breaks. Her lips twist into a bitter grin. Another tear slides down her face. “Happy now, _brother?”_

Loki looks broken. Gutted. She hides it well, but Sigyn has known her for years. She can see cracks where there never were before. And Sigyn thought she was unbreakable. Her Loki, shining and strong, at the top of the pyramid, broken up over a boy. Over her brother.

_(sigyn wishes she never followed them. she wish she couldn’t hear. she feels numb and there is a ringing in her ears. alarms. sirens. telling her to get out. now, before - )_

It’s like all the anger has disappeared in a blink of the eye. Instead, only anguish remains. Thor looks torn. Like a part of him wants it, but a part of him wants nothing to do with it all. Like he wishes he could close his ears to her truth. And yet, at the same time, hold her closer.

“Loki,” he starts, pained, “why did you lie?”

This seems to incite another flare of anger in Loki. She shoves his gentle hands away, her green eyes glowing dangerously.

“Why did I _lie?”_ She spits, fuming. “That’s all you got out of this conversation? _That I lied?”_ Loki laughs, but it’s a strangled, dying sound. “What about Jane Foster, huh?” Loki hisses. “Who is she to you?”

“Lolo…” Thor tries.

“Don’t Lolo me,” Loki hisses, sliding out of the reach of Thor’s attempts to grab her.

“Loki, come on.” Thor tries again, reaching for her, and this time Loki isn’t fast enough. Thor grabs her.

She’s like a wild thing in his grasp. “ _Let go of me!”_ She screams, going into one of her furies, throwing an arm wherever she can, trying to break something, until, until –

Thor kisses her.

He pins down her arms with his strong hands, and he kisses her. It’s a desperate thing to see. It’s like the answer to everything is in her mouth. It’s like he’s in outer space and she’s the last source of oxygen left. He kisses her hard, and eager, and in a wild way that Sigyn has never seen before. Had never though Thor capable of. Thor, with his steady hands. Thor, with his cool head. Thor, who didn’t even blink when Clarke Wexler flashed him boobs, or when Dinora Rosales grinded on him during Fall Ball, or when Sarah Miller whispered in his ear all the dirty things she wanted to do to him. Thor, who has never registered as a sexual being in Sigyn’s mind until now.

Because now Thor’s hands are shaking. And he looks like he can’t help himself. And he looks like he wants to touch every part of Loki that he can.

They fall onto the bed, Thor on top of Loki, rucking up her green clingy dress even higher, exposing those moon pale thighs, Thor in between her, the bronze of his skin a sun to Loki’s moon.

“You know what I thought when I saw you?” Thor pants into Loki’s ear, and she whines. “I popped one, right in my fucking pants, and I was pissed, I was so _fucking_ pissed, because I knew if I was hard, then those motherfuckers dick’s were throbbing too, probably getting their dicks wet thinking of you under them, thinking of the way you were grinding, probably thinking you would grind that way on their dicks too. And when that guy touched you, I swear to God Loki I wanted to kill him.” Thor’s hands clench into fists. “ _Fuck_ , I wanted to kill him. It was so messed up. I wanted to slide your dress up and fuck you right on that fucking table, show every one that you’re mine. I was so pissed I could hardly think straight. I just kept thinking about that guy, wondering how he thought he could touch you, _my_ baby girl, barely sixteen, pure as a _fucking_ angel and still a virgin.” The anger, the remembering, drains out of Thor’s face. Something more tender takes its place. “And when you told me you were waiting for me, Lolo, I swear that was the hardest I’ve ever been in my fucking life.” He says, voice breaking at the end.

“Thor,” Loki whines, wrapping her arms around him tight, like he’s a life preserver, like he’s the only thing that’s going save her from drifting out deeper into sea. “I _need_ you, Thor. I need you inside me. I’ve waited for this for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long.” She grabs one of his hands and presses it against her pussy. “Do you see how wet I am for you?”

And Thor makes this strangled sound that can’t be human, his arms trembling, says

“Loki, baby, you drive me fucking _insane_ ,” and then slips his hands down her panties, works her open for him with his thick fingers, with those hands that Kickoff magazine once called Godly, with those hands that were able to throw a spheroid pig skin 90 yards across a field for a game winning touchdown, with those hands that held three time trophies and brought district championships and made Lincoln high school a powerhouse, a name brand, and would soon be sought after by college football teams in the Big Ten and the Big 12 and the SEC.

And then, after he’s worked her open with his fingers, he works his zipper open, rolls a condom on, and leans over her, Loki’s legs wrapped around him like pale ribbon.

His arms are shaking when he says

“Loki, if you’ve changed your mind, if you’re scared, it’s not too late –“

And Loki snarls, reaches for his face with her hands, pulls him into her, sinks her tongue into his mouth, kisses him like she wants to eat him alive, before pulling back and saying

“If you don’t fuck me I’m finding someone who will.”

And that’s all it takes because Thor goes from worried to fierce in an instant, sliding into her in one sharp thrust. Loki cries out, her green eyes shining with unshed tears, looking like gemstones in the light. And Sigyn would have never have thought it but Thor is a beast, Thor is a thing with claws and teeth that growls and shoves into her harder and harder, sucks on her skin and leaves marks, leaves blooming purples of alliums and catmint and wisteria, and whispers her name like a litany.

He is a beast, yes, but he is also desperate and helpless, looks beholden to Loki’s will, bites his lip so hard it bleeds, as if he’s holding back, as if he still doesn’t want to hurt her, as if he’s in so much pleasure that it’s pain, says

“Lolo, baby, you’re so tight,” and it sounds strained, his voice hoarse, adds “you’re squeezing my dick so hard, fuck, you’re beautiful, baby, and mine, all mine, if you really hadn’t been a virgin I think I might’ve gone crazy, think I might’ve locked you up forever, never let you see daylight, because goddamn you really are that beautiful baby, so fucking beautiful that anyone would want to snatch you away, so gorgeous and open and ready for me –“

And Thor sounds delirious, like he’s gone mad, like he’s fallen completely under Loki’s spell, but Loki is the true sight to see, her cheeks flushed pink, something like wonder in her eyes, something so young and soft and dreamy that it’s almost like looking like a stranger and not her best friend, not captain Loki, not Top Girl Loki with the dagger green eyes and the stone cold expression and the mouth like a whip.

Everything that in practice looked hard and lean and mean and so sharp it could cut you – all of it look so soft in Thor’s arm, and erotic, and her breasts that are usually taped down, bandage wrapped, a hassle in cheer, something to hide and downsize – now bouncing freely, pale like snow, Thor raking his teeth across them like he wants to bite into her heart, and those edges on her seem like curves in his embrace, seem like something you can hold, or maybe that’s just how it is when she’s with Thor, maybe only Thor has hands cut out to touch diamond, and not bleed, turn her from that rough coal into the shining jewel, and maybe that pressure you need is coming from his thrusts, turning her even more beautiful still, with every snap of hips, everything about her flushed and pink, and not cold at all, not transparent white, like he’s given her life –

_(no, her loki, sigyn’s loki, has never once, not once, looked at her like this)_

_\---_

_love lives, love dies_   
_love bites, love bleeds_   
_love begs, love pleads_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao took a while but they finally fucked
> 
> song lyrics - love bites by def leppard


	12. knife ridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hardest chapter to write by FAR.  
> still dont like it either ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

_Cherry  
Tells me some things I don't want to know  
_

“You have to understand.” Loki tells her, eyes serious, up on Knife River Ridge, “what me and Thor have is a real thing. A true thing.”

The day of the fateful party, Loki had caught Sigyn looking through the crack in the door. Sigyn had left immediately, her mind all over place, thoughts scattered like a windstorm, almost toppling down the stairs in her haste to get away.

The next few days had been awkward, but Loki had seemed out of it, focused on other things, so Sigyn had gotten off.

And then she got a text today.

_Midnight. Knife River Ridge._

She couldn’t say no.

“I never thought it would happen,” Loki continues, and Sigyn thinks she means fucking her brother, but instead Loki says, “I never thought I would feel like this.”

 _Feel like what_ , Sigyn wants to ask, but she already knows, doesn’t she, so what’s the point?

Instead she says, almost blurts

“It’s wrong. You’re fucking your brother.”

And Loki just turns to look at her calmly, indifferently, like she just said the sky is blue, or what tomorrows weather will be like.

“I know.” She says calmly. “It is wrong. But not for the reasons you think.”

And then she tells her everything.

XXX

They’re on the hood of Loki’s Subaru, feet dangling, watching the stars, and Loki says

“My real mom was born in Belorussia.”

Sigyn’s mouth feels dry. “What do you mean, your ‘real mom?’

Loki turns to look at her with cool green eyes.

“I mean Frigga isn’t my real mom. And Odin wasn’t my father.”

Sigyn doesn’t say anything for a long while. Just stares at Loki, every inch of her, the porcelain complexion, and the narrow face, and her cat-like eyes, everything so different from the sturdy jaws of the Odinson’s, and their sun kissed skin, and their hair as bright as gold.

It’s not hard to believe.

But still.

Loki must notice this, that Sigyn is still doubtful, because she reaches into her pocket and brings out a heavily wrinkled photograph. Loki passes it to her and Sigyn stares.

There is a kid Loki with an older woman, an older woman who looks like the spitting image of Loki now.

Loki taps one finger on the older woman’s face.

“That’s my mom when she was twenty two. I think I was three at the time.” Loki leans back, turns her face away to stare at the stars again.

“Her name was Farbauti Dvorak. She was 18 years old when she came to America. She wanted to marry a nice man and get her citizenship quickly, become a true American. She was sick of Soviet Russia and the cold and the way her family controlled her.” Loki gives Sigyn a bitter smile. “I ruined her plans of course.”

“My mom worked as a fortune teller for a long time. She looked mysterious and had a nice accent and she would say prayers in Russian that sounded foreign and mystical enough that people believed she was a gypsy of sorts.” Loki laughs. “My mom was hardly a gypsy, though. Her family back in Belorussia consisted of miners, mostly. Nothing magical about that.” The sarcastic smile fades from Loki’s lips and her eyes darken. “And then, when Farbauti was nineteen, that’s when she met Borr Odinson, father of Odin Odinson.”

Sigyn stares at her in disbelief, and Loki laughs again.

“Funny sense of humor, huh?” She says, as if that’s the reason Sigyn is so shocked. As if it’s not because Loki just said she’s essentially Thor’s aunt. “That Borr would name his son Odin Odinson?” She smiles at her own joke before continuing. “Anyway, he was pretty ancient by the time my mother met him. He was a lonely old man. Wanted to talk to his dead wife. That’s why he came to Farbauti. Farbauti of course, noticed the gold cufflinks, and the soft hands, and the platinum rings on his fingers, and knew the type of person he was right away.” Loki pauses, a wicked smile on her face, eyes knowing. “The _rich_ kind. And Farbauti was young and beautiful and thought she had found her American husband, thought she found her way into the good life, and brought him straight into her bed.” Loki gives Sigyn a wry grin, and Sigyn knows whatever comes next is going to hurt.

“And then, by horrible accident, she got pregnant with me. And Borr refused to marry her. Said he was ‘too old,’ and ‘what would people say?,’ and how it would be ‘disrespectful to his late wife.’ _Disrespectful_ ,” Loki spits, like the word is acid, “as if it wasn’t disrespectful enough that he had laid with a woman who could’ve been his grandchild.”

Loki’s jaw twitches as she continues, tried to reign in that anger that is always present in her blood. “Anyway, after that it was impossible to find a husband. Who wants a foreign woman with a brat by her side? Certainly no American man. Oh, how my mom hated me.” Loki says, something burning in her tone. “How she blamed me for everything, for being poor, and not having enough to eat, and not having her American husband. My mom was a ghost. She was living in America, but she wasn’t recognized by anyone. To the government, she didn’t exist. Typical of my mother, to resent me for it. To place all the blame on me. She never took responsibility for her actions. It was one of the reasons being a fortune teller suited her so well – she could blame things on the cards, and the deities, say it was a cursed fate, and never once have to look herself in the mirror and admit that it was her own fault. That she was the one who had messed up.”

“Still,” Loki adds, this time more lightly, “Farbauti did get something out of it. Every month Borr would come around with a envelope full of money and give it to her. He’d visit me too. Of course, I didn’t know at the time that he was my father. I just thought he was one of Farbauti’s nicer boyfriends who liked playing with me. He’d talk to me in English, because I wasn’t going to school yet, and Farbauti always talked to me in Russian. It helped a lot.” Loki picks at her sleeve, her eyes cast down. “He was the only person who was nice to me back then.”

“And later,” Loki continues, tone very blasé, “when we were travelling with some carnival my mom left me behind and I never saw her again.”

Loki says this without any flourish. Just a little wave of her hand like it was to be expected, and it didn’t hurt. “I got sent to a foster home. Borr still visited me, but it wasn’t the same. He felt guilty, I knew. And then Borr died, and I got sent to live with Odin and Frigga.” Loki turns to face her, a nasty smile on her face. “My sweet, insipid father, do you know what he did?” But Loki doesn’t even want for a response, continues roughly, “He wrote in his will before he died that if Odin didn’t take custody of me he wouldn’t get a single cent. That all of his money would go to charity. That If Odin didn’t take care his half-sister, his _only_ sister, he wouldn’t get anything.” Loki grins, shark-like and dangerous. “And oh, how Odin would hate me _forever_ for that. I would be the constant, living reminder that his dad had fucked a girl even younger than _him_. I would ruin his mother’s memory. And worst of all, Borr would hold it against him if he didn’t take me.”

“So I went from being resented by my mother, to being resented by my brother.” Loki’s eyes lock on Sigyn’s, full of dark memories. “Except Odin’s resentment was much worse. Odin’s resentment had fists that knocked the living daylights out of me, that pinched me and threw ugly words and left bruises. Odin’s resentment made me bleed. Frigga couldn’t stop it. Thor,” and here Loki’s voice softens, goes gentle with reminiscing, “Thor, he tried.”

Loki eyes burn into Sigyn’s. “You know what I first thought when I saw Thor? I hated him. I thought, _look at him, living the life **I** deserved_. Having parents and a nice house and the grandpa that was mine, that probably spoiled him with gifts that Borr always had to keep secret with me. What an _easy_ life he must live, I thought. How _spoiled_ he must be. I hated him so much, but Thor,” and Loki’s voice cracks, goes broken with anguish, “Thor never once hated me. Never once resented me, for turning his father mean, and angry – for interloping into his family. He was always so nice, no matter what I said, or what I did. And when he took blow after blow for me – I never saw Odin’s hand as much as Thor did. I saw Thor’s back more often, as he protected me.” Loki looks at her then, something unbearably bright in her eyes. “How could I not love him after that? How could I not love him when he took care of me the way nobody else did, the way nobody else ever cared to?”

Loki continues, harshly rubbing away the tears from her eyes. “When Odin died I was so happy. Everything was so peaceful after that. Thor and me were best friends, we were inseparable, but…” and her Loki’s voice drops to a whisper, haunting “…but I wanted more. I gave him my hamsa bracelet one day when I was twelve. The same one…the same one my mother gave me. The _only_ thing she _ever_ gave me.” Loki laughs but it’s forced and full of hurting. “To ward off the evil eye you know? Or just bad energy? It means protection. The hamsa is that kind of bracelet. And since it was from my mom, you know, my mom who could rarely gave a shit about me, well, it was important.”

Loki’s eyes sear into Sigyn’s, full of emotion. “He knew that. He knew what it meant to me. I kissed him and… I told him I loved him.” Loki’s fists clench and her eyes shutter.

“It was the wrong thing to say.”

“After that,” Loki persists, something like glass in her throat, “he wouldn’t talk to me. He told me to forget about it. He said what I felt was wrong. He said I was his sister.” Loki laughs, something mean and disbelieving. “It wasn’t the same, after that. We weren’t as close. We drifted apart. If Thor didn’t want me to love him, I sure as hell wouldn’t act like I did. I was closed off after that. I was bitter. I was angry. I was hurt. I wanted to hurt him with my distance. Remember Svad Becher?” Loki asks suddenly, her eyes glowing strangely.

 _Svad Becher_. Of course Sigyn remembers him, the fucking psycho. Loki had said she was just having a little fun. But the whole thing had been too intense at the time for it to have been about just having a little fun.

“Yeah, well,” Loki says bitterly, “that was all because of Thor. He played football with him you know? Savd would come over to the house sometimes during their team bonding shit or whatever and Thor caught me looking at him _once_. It wasn’t anything. It wasn’t like I was actually _interested_ in him or whatever,” Loki says, rolling her eyes. “But then,” she adds, an edge to her voice, “Thor saw, and he got this serious look in his eyes, and he told me: _don’t even think about it.”_

And Sigyn understands, Sigyn knows – the worst thing to tell Loki is not to do something.

“So of course, after that, I _had_ to like him. Because I wanted to hurt Thor. Like he hurt me.” Loki’s eyes flash. “He’d beg me sometimes, why we couldn’t be like before, before I kissed him, when we were so close, and I thought he was crazy. That I could ever go back to pretending I didn’t love him in that way – it was impossible. And he was fucked up for trying to ask that of me.”

“And then the other night,” Loki’s voice trembles, “he said the same thing. After – he cried. He put his head in his hands and cried. Said what we did was wrong. Said sometimes the love he felt for me felt like dying, like not having enough air. He said it shouldn’t feel that way. He said he took advantage of me. He told me-“ Loki chokes on her words for a second, “-he told me he took advantage of me. That he was _sorry_.”

Loki turns to face Sigyn, tears falling from her eyes, a mess of anger of hurt.

“Sorry, for something I will never be sorry for the rest of my life.”

And Sigyn feels helpless, feels powerless against the tide of Loki’s feelings, for this girl she has never seen before, this side of Loki that bleeds and leaks and is as vulnerable as newborn bird.

Loki looks at her something fierce, eyes still filled with tears, and says

“But it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what he says. You wanna know how I know he loves me? How I’ve known all these years, even after that, that he still loved me? He kept my hamsa bracelet in his room. He hides it, of course,” Loki adds, “but I know where. And as long as he keeps that hamsa bracelet, I know.” Loki’s eyes are sure. Even hurt, even broken like this, her eyes still glow with that certainty. “I _know_ he loves me. Because it’s a part of me, you know? It’s a piece of me that I’ve given him, and that he’s kept safe all these years. That’s how I know, Sissy. That’s how I’m still breathing.”

And Sigyn doesn’t really know what to say, a million emotions crashing inside of her like waves during a storm, her ears holding the roar of the ocean, the roar of something big and powerful and dangerous that you can’t stop, can’t say she supports anything that Loki has been saying, only knows that she is hurting, and that is the most important thing right now; can only hold her as she cries, as she shakes like a tree against strong winds, and stroke her hair, and try to be comforting.

“You can’t tell anyone, Sissy, about what you saw.” Loki says, suddenly serious, looking up at her through wet lashes. “They wouldn’t understand.”

“Okay,” Sigyn whispers in response, but Loki is adamant, eyes shining through the wetness of her tears.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.” Sigyn replies, this time more firmly, holding Loki’s intense gaze.

Loki seems relieved by Sigyn’s response, slumps forward like the strings that have been holding her up have been cut, fits her dark head into the crook of Sigyn’s neck.

“Someday you’re going to really want something, Sigyn,” she says, mysteriously, into her skin, “and that’s when you’ll find out who you really are.”

And Sigyn is thinking of Loki last year, after a game, all of them drinking with the players up on the ridge, and Loki with that sparkle in her eye, that part of her turned all the way on, ready to show off, ready to remind everybody why she’s captain, ready to put on a show, all of the boys shifting as she walks around them, assessing, who will carry her body up, who will have the honor, all of them eager, and finally it is Colby Faulkner who has the honor, smug, and Faulkner thrusting her above his head, hands gripping around her ankles, her feet tucked in his palms like a gift, then one leg flung behind her, rendering her celebrated bow n arrow as she spun and lifted her right leg straight in the air, slipping it behind her dark head, making one beautiful line of perfection, all us gasping, all of us awed, all of us devout, all of us ready to be pierced in the heart – all us sinners before a saint, congregation before our God

_(it’s always been about loki)_

“Wait until it happens to you,” Loki continues, whispering, and there is loud buzzing in Sigyn’s ears, a hum in her heart.

_(magic words. witchy words. they sound like a promise)_

“Wait until it’s you.”

\---

_Cherry  
_ _Can be very sweet when she needs a friend  
_ _But it's only  
_ _A mask that she wears so she can pretend_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song - cherry by chromatics
> 
> someday you're gonna really want something & wait until it happens to you & part of sigyn's remembering of loki on the ridge is from DARE ME by megan abbot


	13. god (is a woman)

Fandral doesn’t know how it happens. It just does.

He’s at another party one of those nights, and Loki’s there too, and she’s the same way she was the last time he saw her –

Smiling at him. Open. Staring at him in a way that makes him burn. Except that this time she isn’t drunk.

_And I feel after midnight_

They fall into bed together.

_A feelin' that you can't fight_

Fandral runs his hands over her body and up her thighs and holds her face like it’s precious and Loki kisses him fast and desperate and eager, wraps her tongue around his tongue, tries to pull him into her, and Fandral has never been harder in his life, feels like he’s about to cum in his pants from the feel of her, from the sound of her voice in his ear, from her breathy moans and pants.

“I didn’t know-“ He starts, pulling away for a second. “I didn’t know you wanted this.”

And Loki stares at him, her cheeks flushed, her green eyes overly bright, something like confusion on her brow, and laughs.

“Of course I do.” She says simply, her voice like a song. “Everybody wants sex.”

And Fandral thinks, Oh.

_Oh._

It’s just sex.

And he doesn’t know why, exactly, he thought it was more, maybe more about _him_ , and he of all people should understand it’s just about sex, and nothing else, because when he chooses a girl in the crowd is it ever really about them?

So Fandral pushes away the heavy weight in his chest, the strangeness he feels, and kisses her back, just as deeply, curls his hands into her, how beautiful she looks, with her black hair spread all over the pillow like raven’s wings, and her emerald eyes, and that red mouth, and those long legs that wrap themselves around him so sweetly, everything about her so sweet, sucks on her nipples and thinks he’s never _tasted_ something so sweet, there’s never been a _girl_ so sweet, and when Loki arches off the bed, her feet curled, a low whine spilling out of her mouth, Fandral thinks there’s never been a _sound_ so sweet, and so beautiful as Loki when she comes.

_Baby, lay me down and let’s pray_

And when he finally slides into her, slides into that slick, wet heat, Fandral thinks he sees stars for a second she’s so tight, so perfect, twitching around his dick, Fandral feels like he can hardly breath, has to go slow as a fucking turtle so he doesn’t come right away, grits his teeth against the unbearable pleasure, has to keep from fucking her so hard her head hits the wall, kisses her long and deep and wants to kiss her forever.

And after, when they’re done, and they lay tangled in the sheets Loki says

“I don’t want you to stop fucking other people.”

But what she means is

_I don’t want you to think this is more than what it is_

And so Fandral replies in kind, says “Ok”

But what he really means is

_You’re the first girl that I’ve ever fucked that I think I could fuck forever_

XXX

They fuck a lot after that.

Fandral has never thought of Loki as being sexual. He finds _her_ sexual, that’s for sure. He used to have dreams of her, before, under him, dark hair spilled over his pillow, and wake up tangled in his sheets, a wet spot on his pants – sure, he had these dreams. But he never thought it was possible. And he never thought Loki was someone for casual sex.

_(because, really, there is nothing casual about loki. have you seen her during practice? have you seen her when she walks through a hall? she’s intense. she’s a force of nature. but she is not ‘casual.’ and she doesn’t sleep around like the other cheerleaders)_

But, she’s sleeping around with him. At parties. At his house. Once, in the janitor’s closet.

_(that one was surprising. that one, he never saw coming)_

The late bell has rung already and Fandral is loitering in the hall because Loki texted him, when suddenly a hand comes out of nowhere and drags him into the janitor’s closet.

He thinks it’s a Hogun for a second, payback for drilling him during practice, and is about to raise his fist to club the JV kid, when the light turns on and he sees Loki looking at him, a mischievous gleam in her eye. He lowers his fist.

“Jesus, Loki, I almost beat the shit out of you.” He breathes out.

But Loki seems unafraid; raises an eyebrow and simply wraps her arms around Fandral’s neck.

“Kinky, but I’m not into that. Sorry.”

And Fandral can’t help but burst out laughing, is always surprised by the things Loki says, the way he unwraps the mystery and gets closer to the girl, to Loki, every day.

“Why are we in here?” He asks pointedly, after his laughter has subsided.

And Loki looks up at him under her dark lashes, coy, before pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

Fandral takes a sharp breath.

“Because I missed you.” She says, something honey sweet in her tone, a seductress, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “Because I was in class and I thought of your big, strong, hands.” Presses a kiss to his jaw. “And your big strong arms.” A kiss to his neck, this time. “And your long, slender, fingers.” A kiss on his collarbone. “And I thought,” Loki says, her voice too sugary, too sweet, Fandral breathing hard at the sound of it, Fandral _getting_ hard at the sound of it, “I thought I wanted you to fuck me with your fingers,”

“Fuck, Loki.” Fandral breathes out.

“-and then fuck me with your cock.” She says, biting his ear.

“Loki,” Fandral says uncertainly, still conscious of where they are even though his dick feels as hard as a rock. “Loki, I don’t think this is the best place.”

And Loki whines, licks the underside of his ear, grabs his hand and slides it up her skirt, presses it against her pussy, and Fandral inhales sharply, because there’s nothing there, no cloth, no lace, just soft, naked flesh, and Loki says, whines really

“But I took them off for _you_. I was so fucking wet, Fandral, thinking of you, I went to the bathroom and touched myself, but it wasn’t enough, I need you, Fan, please, my pussy’s aching for it, for your big, hard cock-“

And if Fandral was as hard as a rock before, now his dick is a rod of steel from the dirty way Loki is talking. Like a fucking porn star. And he can’t help thinking of her in the girl’s bathroom, sliding down her frilly panties, touching herself, and thinking of him; it must have been so fucking beautiful to see, but not as beautiful as Loki saying she needs it, needs _him._

_And he sees the universe when I am the company_

“Shit, Loki,” he says desperately, and for a second there seems to be a triumphant look on Loki’s face, like he’s played right into her hands, but then she goes back to whining and Fandral’s sure he’s imagined it.

Loki starts tugging at his belt, and Fandral – Fandral is _letting_ her. He must be crazy. He must have gone fucking insane. So he tries, desperately, again

“There’s no table, Loki, nowhere to –“

“Just fuck me standing up,” she murmurs into his ear, her voice like the softest velvet. “You can do that, right?” She purrs.

He thinks he almost comes in his pants right then. Instead, he takes a deep breath, and Loki hops up on his dick and Fandral grabs her by the ass, squeezing tightly, his dick twitching. And then he fucks her right up against the wall, sliding into that tight heat, and if thought fucking her the first time was great, then this time the experience is out of this world, can feel his dick hitting deeper than ever before, can feel his dick just a little past her navel, can feel himself moving inside her, Loki crying out, and Fandral gritting his teeth in concentration, trying to steady himself, trying not to buck up into her like an animal, one hand on a shelf as he starts to go faster, and faster and faster, neither of them bothering to hide their voices now, knocking shit off the shelves, slamming Loki up against the door again and again, his hips like a piston her pussy is so fucking sweet, Loki clawing her way up his back, a rough hand in his hair, as Loki growls, Loki snarls

“Harder, Fandral, fucking harder, you can go _harder_ -“

But Fandral is already slamming into as hard as he can, has lost all sense of being, simply rutting into her like an animal, mouthing at her neck as Loki demands more and more and more –

_Baby, take my hand, save your soul_

And then one slam too many, an entire shelf is knocked over and the sound is like an earthquake inside the small storage room. Both Loki and Fandral freeze, staring at each other, before Loki hops off his dick and quickly rights herself, Fandral pulling up his pants and trying to get the hell out of there as well, because if it sounded like an earthquake in there who knows how it sounded outside.

Sure enough, they both hear hurried footsteps coming in their direction and they both run out of the closet without another word.

It’s the craziest sex Fandral has ever had.

But it’s not always like that.

Sometimes, it’s slower. Sometimes, Loki will come over to his house in the middle of the night, climb in though his window, and it’s something gentler. Unhurried. Fandral will kiss his way up her body before he fucks her, take his time, kiss the insides of her wrist and thighs, just kiss _her_. And they’ll just lay in his bed like that, just kissing, Fandral on top of her, wishing he could kiss her deep enough to tattoo his name on her mouth with his tongue.

And then after, Loki will just lay in the sheets with him, and they’ll watch tv, and they’ll talk about their parents, or sometimes nothing at all, but the major point is that Loki doesn’t leave, even after the sex, even when it’s done, so doesn’t that mean it something more? Doesn’t it mean it’s more than the sex she wants?

_(Fandral hopes. It’s a dangerous thing)_

But Fandral has this other feeling in his chest too, this unease, because Thor doesn’t know about any of it. And Thor is his best friend. And Loki is his sister. He brings up this worry one such night.

Fandral tries to do it gently. Knows Thor is a sore topic with Loki, just like everybody knows. He trails a finger up her arm, doesn’t look at her, and says

“I think we should tell Thor what we’re doing.”

Loki jerks away from his touch. She looks at him with incredulous eyes.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

_You put your cigarette  
_ _Out on my face  
_ _So beautiful_

Fandral swallows the glass stuck in his throat, says

“No.”

“But it’s just sex,” Loki says sharply, then tries again, gentler, when she hears her own tone, “I mean – obviously, for both us it isn’t a big deal. And there’s no need to make it a big deal.”

_We’re not in a relationship_

And Fandral hears that. He knows. But still.

It’s Thor.

And he doesn’t like hiding things from Thor.

He tries a different approach. Gives her a sly grin.

“And Thor won’t _make it_ a big deal. I mean, he’s probably too busy with _Jane Foster_ ,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, “to even care about what happens –“

It’s a bad approach. It’s a very bad approach. Because the next thing he knows he’s looking into the eyes of one very pissed off Loki Odinson.

“ _Bullshit,”_ she spits, eyes glowing hazardously. “You know all that stuff between Foster and him is bullshit, right?”

Fandral, not understanding what’s going on right now, not understanding why she’s so pissed, decides to take the cautious route.

“Well,” he starts carefully, “Thor hasn’t said much about it, but I thought it went without saying, since Jane is such a nice girl –“

“Jane Foster can go to hell.” Loki says abruptly, cutting him off, her eyes colder than a tundra. She laughs something nasty. “She’s ugly, less interesting than a blank wall, and frankly, not even that smart. What’s she got that I don’t got, huh? What’s so _nice,”_ she snarls, the word like acid _,_ “about little Jane Foster?”

_Chasin' pain with an excuse  
I love that shit and so do you_

And Fandral has the strangest sense of Déjà vu, thinks of another girl in his bed, saying almost the same shit, with the same face, and with the same tone of voice

_Try hard bitch._

There’s a lot of things Fandral never thought Loki capable of. Like softness. Or casual sex. Here’s another thing, too –

Jealousy.

He never thought her capable of that.

_It’s like we only play to lose_

XXX

Fandral goes to Thor’s a couple days later.

He knows Loki isn’t on board with it but he doesn’t care. For as long as Fandral has known him, Thor has been there. Always. And he isn’t going to hide what’s going on because Thor deserves the straight up truth. And he doesn’t want him to find out from anyone else.

Thor greets him at the door.

“What’s up, man?”

Fandral smiles. “Nothing much, just wanted to talk.”

Thor looks at him curiously. “About what?”

Fandral can’t meet Thor’s gaze. “Oh, you know.” He says vaguely, somewhat stupidly.

Thor laughs. “Alright, head up to my room. I’ll be there in a sec.”

Thor’s room is pretty organized, and not just for a guy. It’s neat and kind of bare – save for a poster of Tom Brady and Walter Payton and some other top NFL players. His desk is organized too, has his pile of workbooks neatly stacked

_Calculus_

_Anatomy and Physiology_

_Economics_

_Government_

_English lit_

As well as a weathered notebook on top of them.

_Thor’s Journal_

Is what it says, but really it’s more of a log. Fandral flips through it and sees mostly what Thor worked on and on what day as well as some other notes.

November 3rd

_Sprint ladders: 2 x sprint 10 yards, rest 10 seconds between sprints; 2 x sprint 20 yards, rest 20 seconds between sprints; etc…_

_Box squats_

_Deadlift 130 lbs_

_90/90 stretch_

_Jessie and Deandre got in another fight – talk to them_

November 4th

_Huddle sprints: sprint for 40-60 feet, jog back to the starting line after each sprint and briefly rest in your starting position for a total of 20-30 seconds between sprints. Repeat 8-12 times._

_Box Blast_

_Ankle jump_

_Single-Leg Hurdle Hop_

_Talk to coach about Norseman game_

November 10th

_Talk to Hogun one on one. Has a lot of potential but wasting it as JV. Not enough confidence._

_Secure funding from PTA for busing to Arlington_

_Calculus project due – Tell Mr. Li Danny didn’t do his part!!_

_Talk to boosters_

November 12th

_Send Diana Script for Modern Antigone play_

_Vertical leap 24.5 inches, not bad_

_Roth IRA vs Trad. IRA – WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE ??_

_Memorize 20 court cases_

November 14th

_40 yard dash currently 6.65 seconds – NEEDS TO BE CUT DOWN_

_Bench pressed 210 today – new record_

_Work on new drills with team – where tf is the communication_

_Volstagg bringing LSU scouts in December !!!_

November 20th

_Purdue or Notre Dame??_

_Call PSU scouts_

_Clemson scouts offering 40 G scholarship – worth it?_

_Send in college app for Northeastern_

_Essay on authority, power and truth in Antigone DUE_

Bored, Fandral closes the journal and looks around some more. Thor is honestly like a machine. Fandral’s room isn’t messy by any standards but Thor makes him look straight up like a bum. There aren’t a lot of trophies in his room (since they go to the school anyway) but there is a small, neat row of a MVP trophies on his dresser as well as some little league stuff.

_(fandral thinks, vaguely, that this is the room of a winner. of someone who has their life together)_

Besides that, though, there are no personal effects, no posters of bands or half naked girls on motorcycles, no pictures of Thor with his friends, no anything but the true devotion of someone studiously trying to make something out of himself.

Fandral collapses on Thor’s bed (made of course) and when he turns his head he realizes he’s wrong.

There _is_ a photo in Thor’s room.

Right beside his bedside table there is a framed picture of him and Loki when they were kids – they can’t be more than eleven and they’re pressed tightly together, arms linked, Loki in a blue dress and Thor dressed as a rabbit.

Fandral laughs when he realizes – Loki’s Alice from Wonderland.

But the real amazing thing is the smile on Loki’s face. A grin really, showing off all her teeth. She looks so happy next to Thor. They both look happy.

_(fandral thinks, suddenly, that he’s never seen her so happy besides thor)_

Thor walks in and Fandral startles, almost drops the frame on the floor. Thor throws him a coke.

“What you looking at?” Thor asks, and Fandral passes him the frame.

Thor’s eyes lock on the photo, and he smiles, but it seems sad.

“Ah. Fetus Loki.”

Fandral tries for a light tone. “Yeah, man, what happened there? Your sis grow up and turn emo or something?”

But what he’s really asking is

_Why aren’t you two close anymore?_

And Thor must catch this because he doesn’t really look at Fandral, just stares at the frame and shakes his head, still with that fake smile on his face, and says

“Nah. She just wanted more than I could give.”

And Fandral’s busy wondering what the fuck that’s supposed to mean when he opens his coke and it fizzes all over his shirt, spilling onto the floor.

“Shit.” He curses, holding the coke away from his body, and Thor stands up.

“Damn. I’m gonna get a towel. You can change your shirt if you want.”

And Thor riffles through a cabinet in the bathroom after gently placing the frame back on his nightstand, while Fandral riffles through his clothes looking for a decent shirt.

Knowing the mood has been ruined, and he can’t bring Loki up again without it being awkward, he brings up Jane Foster instead.

“So what’s up with you and Foster?” He asks when Thor comes back, waggling his eyebrows as Thor cleans up the floor. “Y’all dating or what?”

And Fandral expects a smile in reply, something like humble pride, something to confirm what everybody’s already been saying is true, but instead Thor seems to cringe.

“Man, I have no idea how that rumor spread but we’re just friends. Don’t get me wrong I like her a lot – she’s serious about things, you know, not like other girls, and I consider her a really good friend, but that’s it. A friend.”

Fandral frowns. He’s about to say something about how good they would be together when he sees something that catches his eye. A hot dog bun t-shirt.

_Suns out Buns Out!_

The same one Loki was wearing that day a long time ago.

He takes the shirt out and shows it to Thor. “This yours?”

_Say no. Say no. Say no._

Thor’s eyes do this weird crinkling thing before they light up in recognition.

“Shit man, where’d you find that?” He exclaims, surprise bleeding into his tone. “I’ve been looking for that shirt for a while now. Got it in Destin a couple years ago. I thought my mom gave it away.” Thor stares at the shirt curiously. “Huh. I guess not.”

Fandral stares at the shirt. He thinks about how it went past her knees. He wonders at how stupid he was to think it was hers. He wonders why someone who supposedly hates her brother would wear his shirt. Correction: would _steal_ his shirt.

“Anyway,” Thor continues, oblivious to Fandral’s dilemma, “there’s nothing going on between me and Jane. She’s cool, and I like that she’s doesn’t read into things like most girls would do, but that’s it. It’s just nice to talk to a girl who’s not gagging for my dick or my popularity, you know?”

But Fandral isn’t listening. Is barely paying attention right now. Is thinking about a lot of things, like how Loki’s never fucked around before him, and how he’s blonde like Thor, and how Vicky was jealous of Loki, and how Loki seems to be jealous of Jane, and how Volstagg always looked at Loki like she was dangerous, and how Volstagg warned him –

Can’t help but wonder, really, if Volstagg was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs  
> stay by post malone  
> god is a woman ari


	14. firing squad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we're going nowhere fast we've reached a climax

_Love, I said real love  
Is like smiling when the firing squad's against you  
And you just stay lined up  
Yeah  
(Fuck)_

“You’re fucking Fandral, aren’t you?”

Sigyn confronts Loki after practice one day.

Loki doesn’t miss a beat. Doesn’t even look up from her phone.

“Yeah, and?”

“And he’s a fucking _loser_.” Sigyn hisses. “Who knows how many girls he’s fucked? He could have an STI.”

This, Loki looks up at.

“He’s not a loser,” she says resolutely, her voice booking no argument, but if Loki thinks Sigyn isn’t going to argue, she’s crazy.

“Are you fucking serious right now? He made a dick joke related to a banana in US history and then pretended to give Hogun a blowjob in class. Are you seriously telling me – “

“Did you know Fandral’s favorite book is slaughterhouse five?” Loki cuts in abruptly. “Did you know he can recite at least one line from every page?” Loki looks at Sigyn expectantly, and when she doesn’t answer, continues. “Because I do. I even tested him on it because I didn’t believe it. Did you know he’s first quartile? Did you know he once beat up Michael Moore because he called Claudia Sanchez a wetback? Did you know he’s a national merit scholar? Because I do. Because he’s not a loser. Because he may act like one, but he’s not. And that’s the difference.”

Loki stares Sigyn down with cold green eyes, unwavering.

“What do you see him?” Sigyn finally asks.

Loki is quiet for a long time before she answers.

“We share the same kind of hurt.”

“What kind of hurt?”

And here, Loki is dismissive. Looks at Sigyn like she’s a stranger.

“The kind you wouldn’t understand.”

And _ouch_ , that hurts, hits Sigyn hard, makes her want to understand, makes her want to be hurt in the same kind of way so that she can be in that club of understanding.

 _You’re only fucking him because he looks like Thor_ , Sigyn thinks nastily, and when she goes home she locks herself in the bathroom, looks at herself in the mirror, her blonde hair and blue eyes, and thinks, secretly, terribly

_(why not me?)_

XXX

It’s the last game of the season. Scouts are everywhere and not just football scouts – cheerleading scouts as well.

Their bodies bleed red skirts and tops and their eyes shimmer gold. School colors of course. Uniform.

Loki walks in, the alpha female. A dazzling blade of light. She smiles, and light reflects off her razor sharp incisors. She walks, and the sea of apathetic girls parts, go quiet just for her.

“Listen up, bitches!” She booms, still grinning manically. “Our scout, that regionals scout, I can feel her out there, waiting for us. And bitches, she is so ready to be _fucked_.”

Howls of agreement in the room. Girls bang on their locker doors. Exultant.

“I just trawled out there to see the other team’s squad and you know what I saw? Gummy bear thighs. Q-tip legs. Baby girls chewing bubblegum and wearing acrylics and ready to do some backyard tumbling my dead grandma could do in her grave. Ass up face down doggy style _cheer_ _bitches_.”

Laugher. Vicious. Torn out of their throats like knives.

“Do you wanna know a secret?”

And now, the hushed silence. Waiting, for Loki’s magic blessing. Her words that are law.

“There is no one better than you. No one as mean as you. No one as strong as you.” Loki’s eyes flash. “Those boys out there, they think they’re the show?” Loki laughs. “They throw pig skin around. We throw live girls around. They think they’ve bled for this? Well we’ve bled more. Sure, we stomp we clap we yell. We roll our hips and we pop our asses. But we also fly through the _motherfucking_ air. You hear that heartbeat? That’s hard, hard gold pounding in your chest. You are royalty now, you are Gods. Make them bow down.” Her cat eyes, narrowing. “And don’t you _dare_ let those bitches fuck you over on _my_ field.”

Roars in agreement. A stampede of girls banging on lockers, a live heart beating. Look at our captain, with teeth sharp enough to cut into bone, and legs long enough to touch the sky without trying, with that fever in her blood that makes her unafraid of anything. Look at her, fearless and beautiful, sequin studded and brightly lacquered and pretty but bite into her and she is the hardest type of candy, sugar sweet but a jaw breaker.

And it goes like that, all of them as pretty as plastic, but with warrior hearts and spines made of steel, legs all powerful muscle and arms a weapon ready to send girls flying, giving it their all on the field to a woman in shades who may or may not be the scout, but who cares, really, because now it’s halftime, and it’s really time to shine, brighter than the stadium lights so that everyone can see, give them a show, give them the Deadman.

_(or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to go)_

The first strike is the varsity jacket.

Sigyn sees it first. Little Jane Foster wearing something three times her size. Practically buried in Thor’s letterman. Letterman’s reserved for player’s girlfriends. But it’s a cold night, so maybe that’s it.

Strike two is the hug.

Foster runs out into the field and jumps into Thor’s arms. Thor catches her, surprised, but they’re winning, and it’s Thor’s best game yet, so maybe that’s it.

Strike three, you think, would be the kiss, but it’s really the hamsa around Jane Foster’s left hand. Or maybe it’s both.

And there is no explanation for the way Thor kisses her back.

Loki, at first, has a dangerous look in her eyes, at the first two strikes. Tiger green eyes narrow, predatory.

_(sirens in sigyn’s ears. loki, war queen, about to spill blood, war sacrifice)_

And then, the third strike -

Have you ever seen diamond fracture? A window pane crack, it’s broken web spreading?

That’s Loki’s face. Something precious split in two.

_(did you know the amazon queen hippolyta was killed by hercules?)_

And Sigyn wants to reach out, wants to say something, but the beat drops and it’s time for their show, for the Deadman, time for Loki to fall, and they all strut in their formations, in their lines, readying themselves to build the pyramid.

_(sirens, sirens everywhere, but only in sigyn’s head, warning her, no one else can see the danger, the way loki’s face settles down all wrong, like when you glue something broken back together again, but in the wrong order, the puzzle piece doesn’t fit, loki’s face doesn’t fit – )_

Sigyn, standing beside Loki on formation, whispering

“Let me be top girl.”

Loki, smiling at the crowd, all wrong

“No.”

“You’re not ready for this.”

“No.”

And Sigyn, opening her mouth to protest again, upset, angry, _scared_ , but Nikki Cossentino is glaring at her, yanks her by the wrist, says

“Formation, bitch. Ever heard of it?”

And then she and Clarke Wexler are launching her into the air, Loki still on the ground, smiling, fractured, pieces of her all over the field that nobody bothered to pick up, that Thor didn’t bother to pick up, that Thor tore apart

_Shining like gun metal, cold and unsure_

And it is Sigyn and Lana Reed ten, maybe twelve feet up in the air, readying themselves to bring Loki up, the eye of the pyramid, the star on the Christmas tree, the angel, and Loki coming closer, giving them her wrists like telling them to cut them, but they grab them instead, bring her on top of them, and the crowd is roaring at the sight that is Loki, fearless, their leader, more than seventeen feet off the ground, and unafraid of touching the sky, unafraid of reaching God.

_You put your life out on the line  
_ _You're crazy all the time_

The crowd still roaring, cheering, even the boys on the football team, on both football teams, amazed at the way they defy every law of physics and gravity and nature. But only Sigyn can see Loki crying, gold dripping down her cheeks, that terrible, awful smile still on her face, like she’s readying herself for something, like regret is going to be her gift to the world, feel the tremble in her thigh, feel her pulse beating faster than usual, like a time bomb, like a count down, like something about to explode.

_Every girl on the pyramid counting the beat, Lana Reed screaming it, waiting for the eighth one so Loki can drop, **DEADMAN** , but it’s only the sixth and Loki yanks her wrist from my grasp too early, and I wobble, and Lana Reed glares at me, and it’s only the seventh beat when Loki tears herself away, launches herself out of our grasp, falls back too early, both me and Wexler scrabbling to get a hold of her, Cossentino and Wexler and Hamlin and Rosales the only thing that keeps us from falling as well, holding us steady, and Loki is gone, kicks back hard, she is so high, seventeen feet, twenty, a thousand –_

The crowd gasps. For a moment, it’s like she could stay up there forever. Like she’s a star hung up on the black quilt of the sky. Like she’s one of the legends written into the stars.

And then too fast, much too fast, she crashes hard into the ground, and her head clicks backwards like a doll’s, and someone screams, and you remember, you remember

Loki is not a God.

_Darlin', darlin', darlin'  
I fall to pieces when I'm with you, I fall to pieces_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i never promised a happy ending oops
> 
> one more chapter + epilogue


	15. cat's cradle

Pandemonium on the field.

Loki taken away by an ambulance.

Thor, a wild animal ready to follow her.

Because that’s what he is. The whole team has to surround him, keep him from leaving, Thor a crazed thing, bucking, shoving hands out of his face, pushing, struggling to get out of the wall of human muscle that surrounds him, Volstagg most of all, Volstagg who brought the LSU scouts to watch him, telling him

“Thor, this is your chance. Every motherfucking scout has their eye on you. LSU has their eye on you. This is your game. Walk away, and you’re giving it all up. Walk away, and you’re turning your back on your team. Walk away, and kiss your future goodbye.”

And Thor, an angry thing, blazing hot, like lightning split him in half, snarling in reply

“FUCK LSU. FUCK my future. And FUCK _you_.”

And Volstagg cracks, his face going fire engine red, a vein throbbing in his forehead, pissed off, spitting out

“You can’t even see it! She’s ruining your life! Loki’s a toxic, manipulative, _bitch-_ “

But that’s too far, way too far even for Fandral, and now no wall of muscle is going to keep Thor from swinging his fist forward, from breaking Volstagg’s face in, his eyes flashing a dangerous blue, teeth bared in a snarl, as they collide on the ground, refs trying to pull them apart as Thor tries to bury Volstagg into the ground with the force of his punches, all in front of the scouts.

_(he’ll never be recruited now)_

Finally, they succeed, Fandral grabbing Volstagg, and three varsity boys grabbing Thor.

Thor, bleeding from his nose. Volstagg, purple blooming all over his face. Violence, captured in one perfect moment.

Thor, his voice a rumble, a warning, saying

“You _ever_ show your face in front of me again and you’re _dead_. You're fucking dead."

Before turning, and running off the field, out of the stadium, into the dark of the parking lot, leaving the cheering crowd behind, leaving the SEC and the Big Twelve and Big Ten scouts behind, leaving his winning game behind without another look over his shoulder.

_(leaving everything behind for loki)_

And Fandral is too upset, too scared for Loki, angry at Volstagg for the shit that came out of his mouth, has to ask

“Why?”

And Volstagg, dark eyes narrowed in hate, mouth a thin line, bleeding from his lip

“She has everyone wrapped around her fingers like a cat’s cradle. She has you wrapped there. She has Sigyn wrapped there. She had Svad Becher wrapped there. She has the whole cheerleading squad wrapped there. And wrapped tightest, under her thumb, is Thor.” Volstagg glares. “Everyone thinks she just a girl. Let me tell you something, Fandral.

“Loki has never been _just_ a girl.”

XXX

Not one second after Loki is carried away Sigyn storms across the field to the bleachers. She grabs Jane Foster by the arm, the hamsa jingling against her wrist, and says

“What is this, huh? _What the fuck is this?”_

Foster looks at her with cold, snake eyes. She yanks her arm out of Sigyn’s grasp.

“I found it,” she says calmly, and Sigyn laughs, as bright and as fake as the stadium lights.

“In Thor’s room?”

Something shifts in Jane’s eyes before disappearing and becoming blank again. Sigyn’s eyes narrow. Jane shrugs.

“It was just there. Collecting dust. I didn’t think it was a big-“

And Sigyn grabs her by the arm once again, pulls her so close that their faces are only inches away from each other, snarls

“You’re a dirty fucking liar, Foster.”

And Jane is surprised for a second, before her eyes go cold again, knowing, and she says

“It’s wrong how they feel about each other. You know it. I know it.” Jane pauses, fixes Sigyn with an hard stare. “The only difference is that I actually did something about it.”

Sigyn backhands her across the face.

And now there is more than surprise on Jane’s face, something bleeding in her eyes like fear, and Sigyn says, with all her teeth bared in display –

“If Loki dies, you’re dead too.”

XXX

No one is allowed to see Loki at first. It’s only after the fears of intracranial bleeding and cognitive disabilities have passed that she’s allowed visitors. Fandral is the first to find out about this because he bribed the nurses.

When he goes in, and he sees her, it’s a strange feeling. She’s staring blankly at the wall, her head held up in a brace, stuck in one of those metal contraptions you see in the movies so that her head doesn’t move.

She doesn’t look like head captain, with the smile sharper than a razor, and steel for a spine. She doesn’t look like the girl he thought he knew, with her sly smiles, and soft insides.

She doesn’t look like anything.

When Fandral sits down beside her bed she doesn’t say anything either. Doesn’t even acknowledge his presence. So they sit there, in silence, for a long time, the steady beep of her heartbeat the only sound, until he can’t take it anymore.

“Are you in love with Thor?”

It’s not what he meant to say. He meant to say _How are you?_ or _Are you feeling better?_ Or even _Hey, that shirt you wore that day, when I told you about my mom, is it Thor’s?_

In the end, though, it doesn’t matter, because she replies

“Yes.”

It’s that easy. She says it just like that, staring blankly at the wall. There is no hesitation in her voice at all.

And Fandral feels like he’s been gutted. Feels like his chest has collapsed on itself and he can hardly breathe. He has so many other things he wants to ask.

_Why me?_

_Because I looked like Thor?_

_Were you using me?_

_Did you feel something for me?_

_Did you **ever** feel something for me?_

But honestly, Fandral’s done. He’s tired. Loki has been a mystery to him ever since her freshman year, and just when he thought he was unraveling the mystery, he’s realized Loki will always be a mystery to him. She will never open up. The only person she will ever open up to is Thor, and Fandral’s not him, so he’s done trying.

He’s done hurting himself.

He waits for Loki to say something, to defend herself, to say anything, but of course she doesn’t, so he scoffs, shakes his head, stands up and is almost out the door when Loki suddenly does.

“I lied to you.”

Fandral stops.

Loki’s head hasn’t moved, stuck in place by her brace, but her eyes lock on his. They burn into him.

“About your mom, remember? I lied. You never stop caring. You never stop trying to get them to love you. It just passes over to someone else.”

_(like how I passed it to you. like how you passed it to thor)_

“That waiting to be loved? It will never stop.”

XXX

Sigyn skips school to see Loki.

When she finally sees her, under the ugly fluorescent lighting, and medicinal white walls, Loki looks like a fragile thing, her delicate neck held up in a brace like it could snap at any time.

“I’m glad it’s you, Sissy.” She says when she sees her. “If any of the other girls saw me like this they’d go crazy. But you’re strong.” Loki’s eyes lock on Sigyn’s. “You’ve always been strong.”

Sigyn could care less.

“Why?”

Loki’s green eyes shutter. She looks away.

“You know why, Sissy. It’s ugly to pretend.”

“No. Don’t give me that bullshit. You tell me **_why_**.”

And Loki’s eyes are fire. Her body may be this broken thing, for now, pale and sickly, fragile, but her eyes haven’t lost that fire, that hungry quality that swallows entire galaxies whole.

“Why do I do anything, Sigyn?” She snaps, lips turned down in a snarl. “To _hurt_ him.”

Sigyn can’t believe it. She wants to scream at how stupid that sounds.

“You’d hurt yourself, just to hurt him?”

Loki shrugs one shoulder, all casual like, as if what they’re talking about is casual at all.

“If that’s what it takes.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Loki just stares at her, dead eyed. “I never said I wasn’t.”

And all of a sudden Sigyn has a bad feeling in her stomach, remembers Vicky Prescott, remembers her falling into Deadman, Sigyn and Loki holding her up –

“The thing, with Vicky, it wasn’t because –“

“Yeah.” Loki cuts in abruptly. “It was.”

_because here’s a secret no one knows, no one was supposed to know, it’s freshman year, and Addy Hanlon, Vicky’s best friend, is drunk off her ass, and tells them, tells them both, well – _

_Here’s a secret you never would’ve guessed._

_Fandral wasn’t the only one fucking Vicky Prescott._

_Thor was too._

_and Vicky paid the price for it._

Loki stares at her oddly. “Why’d you think I do it?”

And Sigyn is in shock, thinks of Loki’s prefect back tucks and bow n arrows and the way she is so good at being top girl and says

“I thought – well,” Sigyn pauses, reconsiders, and asks the question she’s always wanted to ask, that’s always burned inside her, asks

“I never knew why you loved it. Cheer, I mean.”

Loki blinks at her. “You think I - ? You think I did that to Vicky because I wanted to be _top girl_?” Loki looks at her thoughtfully. She says, blatantly, “Cheer is just a thing, Sissy. I’ve never loved it. It’s just a thing you do to past the time.”

And Sigyn is only thinking about how she never would’ve kept up with cheer if it hadn’t been for Loki, how all these girls worship her like she’s God, and want to be like her, and want to be able to fall into a Deadman like her, and have that magic that makes eyes lock on you, and that ability to defy gravity, and stick a landing every time, want to cheer like her, her, who thinks cheer is a, is a

_thing_

“That’s messed up.” Sigyn says quietly.

And here Loki laughs, and it sounds like an engine that hasn’t been used in a long time, her laughter coming out in scratchy breaks.

“That I did it because of Thor, and not because I wanted to be captain?” Loki laughs again, her body shaking, and it looks like it hurts, but Loki doesn’t stop.

Once she calms, she wipes a lone tear from her face, and looks at Sigyn seriously.

“Sigyn, what we did to her was messed up either way, no matter what the reason.” She looks at Sigyn like she’s looking through her, like she can hear her dark heart beating, and every secret there. She adds, her eyes knowing –

“But you’ve always been a fox in a henhouse, Sigyn.” Loki trails a finger down Sigyn’s arm, and Sigyn shivers and pulls away. “Such soft skin,” Loki muses, “but such a tough heart. You’ve always wanted to be top girl, haven’t you? But you just never took it out of _respect_ ,” and Loki says this word carefully, like if she doesn’t it might shatter and show what it really is, “for me.”

Loki fixes Sigyn with her stare.

“But it doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t want it. I’m sick of playing this game with Thor. I’m sick of being a cheerleader. I’m sick of hating myself. You can have it, Sigyn. Top girl. Captain. _God_.” Loki stares at her, her eyes the green of forbidden fruit, knowing all, and says

“You wanted it? It’s yours now. It was always you.”

When Sigyn leaves, she doesn’t look back. Someone bumps into her in the hallway, obviously in a hurry, with golden hair and bright blue eyes. Unlike the party, this time Sigyn doesn’t follow, is sick of finding out things she never wanted to find out about.

XXX

_“I was waiting for her.”_

That’s what Loki kept saying, lying broken on the field, her eyes blown.

_“Where did she go?”_

When they carried her out in the stretcher, a continuous loop

_“When will she come back? I was waiting for her.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to confirm -  
> jane stole the hamsa, thor didnt give it to her, and she flashed it at loki when she was on the field


	16. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT I LOVE ALL OF YOU

It’s senior year, and Loki doesn’t come back to cheer.

Sigyn is captain now.

It’s October and the air is still sticky with residue heat but that doesn’t mean no practice. Sigyn blows the whistle around her neck, adds more suicides, pushes her girls farther.

There’s so much fresh meat. So many new faces, so many old faces gone. These girls are soft. These girls are apathetic. Sigyn will stick her fingers into the clay of their bodies and mold them. She will make them better. Stronger. She will replace their bones with steel.

“Knees locked, legs together.” Sigyn snaps to Jacey, freshman, JV, who shakes like a newborn colt when they raise her up in the air. Her legs are spread wide.

Sigyn rolls her eyes in annoyance and Nikki Cossentino is by her side in an instant, her loyal deputy, her bad lieutenant, ready to chew out the bitch, snarl

“At least _try_ not to look like you’re ready to get fucked, JV!”

And Jacey flushes bright red, shakes a little too much, and falls hard onto the matt below.

But it’s fine. Sigyn has time. Regionals are still far away, and this time they’ll make it. This time, all her girls will be ready, and perfect, and as hard and as sweet as jawbreakers.

A lot of girls still ask about Loki, though. A lot of them wonder why she didn’t come back

 _She recovered over the summer,_ said Lana Reed, adamant. _I saw her and she looked fine._ And then adding, hesitant, but slightly smug, _do you think she’s too scared to come back?_

And all of them still think it was a mistake, what she did. Falling into the Deadman too early.

 _I guess nobody’s perfect,_ Lana Reed had said, after.

Only Sigyn knows that it was on purpose.

_(as if someone like loki could make a mistake)_

Loki, senior year, is different. She talks to no one. She focuses on her school work. She comes to school, and then she leaves. She is no longer this wild thing with death in her eyes. It’s like whatever fever was in her blood has passed. She’s calmer. More settled. She still has that steel in her spine, and that intense green graze, but she is still. The quiet after the storm.

People don’t know what to do with this Loki. They don’t talk to her, but they don’t bother her either. Both seem like an instant death. And when she moves through the hall, people still part like she’s Moses and they’re the sea, and she’s become even more of a mystery. Elusive.

And still just as beautiful.

“You know he picks her up from school sometimes.” Nikki tells her one day, as they watch the sea part for her.

“I know.”

“Thor maybe going to State now, but he’s going to get recruited by a better university. There’s no way he won’t with the way he’s kicked up dust at State. Doesn’t matter if he messed up his senior year he’s playing too good this year for those Big Ten schools not to pick him up. State has never gone this long undefeated, and it’s all because of him. I saw on ESPN the other day, but you know what school he’s thinking of?”

Of course Sigyn knows. It’s always been Loki’s dream school. Her top choice. Her number one choice.

“Notre Dame.”

Nikki laughs. “Can you believe it? Not that Notre Dame is bad, but he’s got the Crimson Tide gagging on his dick and he’s thinking Notre Dame?” Nikki stops laughing. Her eyes go sly and she looks at Sigyn. “All for her, of course. His _precious_ sister. He goes where she goes.”

Sigyn knew all this already of course. She watched Loki one day after school when she was leaving. Saw Thor’s car idling on the far side of the building. The state college only twenty minutes away. She saw the way Loki lit up. She saw the way Thor grinned at her, got out of the car, and lifted her in his arms. And then the way they kissed. Loki’s arms locked behind Thor’s head. Like he was hers. Like she was his.

And then the way she smiled. Everything put together right. Loki, happier than Sigyn had ever seen her, her teeth bared, but not in a snarl, more like she couldn’t keep from smiling, and

In love. So in love. Heart-breakingly in love.

_but she had to know it, right? She had to have seen it coming, because –_

There is a boy. And there is a girl.

_(of course there is. there always is.)_

And there will never be just a girl and another girl.

_Cherry  
_ _I hate that it's true but you make me blue  
_ _I kept waiting  
_ _For you to find what I see in you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lied i FIRMLY believe in happy endings lmao
> 
> what did thor say to loki when sigyn left from the hospital?? find out in the sequel which is gonna be loki and thor POV 🤪

**Author's Note:**

> there are gonna be a lot of lana del rey lyrics probably


End file.
